


Not This Time

by SineadRivka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AUs are Too Much Fun, Amanda lives, Anxiety Attacks, Captain!Spock, F/F, F/M, Hurt!Jim, Kid Fic, M/M, PTSD, Star Trek 50th Anniversary, Tarsus IV, Trauma Recovery, all roads end in spirk, baby vulcans, confused feelings, first star trek fic, past trauma, some folks may be ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7991806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SineadRivka/pseuds/SineadRivka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crack of rock startled Spock, causing him to bark for a status update from Chekov. He wrapped an arm around his mother’s waist, fingers gripping hard enough that he hoped he wouldn’t bruise his human parent. And then the ground gave way. Distantly, the words, “I’m losing them, <i>I’m losing them!</i>” echoed from the communicator clipped to his belt.</p>
<p>White surrounded them, and he felt himself falling . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Star Trek fic that I've written. And as such, it's something that I wanted to read, and something that I'm enjoying rereading. So please be gentle with me! I'm still learning the "voices" of the various characters, but I'm enjoying the process of learning a new universe to play in.
> 
> Relationships will be added as I go along, but yes, all roads end in Spirk.

Spock didn’t hesitate to keep his parents close to him as they ran out of the Katric Arc, especially his mother. He knew he was breaking several Vulcan cultural taboos by keeping a hand on her arm or her back at all times, but this was not the time for social sensitivity. Spending several years on Earth had given him time to explore certain aspects of his human half, and he had found himself comfortable with certain levels of contact. Even with the buffer of fabric, he could discern his mother’s anxiety warring with a strange peacefulness that her son was beside her, touching her.

Spock found that he _needed_ physical contact, and often enough, even the simplest resting of his shoulder against another’s was enough to help him ground himself again. Over the last five years, he found he held to a lessened boundary than strict Vulcan societal mores, allowing very platonic touch between himself and close friends when in private.

Additionally, and much more logically, he knew that within the insignia badge he wore was a tracker that would help the Enterprise to lock on his signature faster; that meant keeping his parents as close to his side as possible to ensure their safety. Even if this was the first time his father had even truly _looked_ at him in almost eight years. Lack of giving emotions free reign did not mean that expressions were barred from their faces. There was a respect there that he wasn’t sure had been there before. Then again, showing up in his science blues and commander stripes may have had something to do with it; he was literally wearing his hard-earned achievements on his sleeve.

The crack of rock startled Spock, causing him to bark for a status update from Chekov. The young man didn’t grace him with a reply. The prodigy was working hard, tuning out all distractions. Sand shifted beneath his feet. He wrapped an arm around his mother’s waist, fingers gripping hard enough that he hoped he wouldn’t bruise his human parent. He backed up two large steps towards the Elders behind him.

“Don’t move!” Chekov barked over the communicator.

And then the ground gave way.

His free arm snapped out, grabbing hold of the rock he had just been standing on. He felt something strain in his shoulders at the sudden stop of his and his mother’s fall, but he couldn’t let go. Time slowed as he stared into the brown eyes that he had inherited from her. Distantly, the words, “I’m losing them, _I’m losing them!_ ” echoed from the communicator clipped to his belt.

White surrounded them, and he felt himself falling . . .

To stumble, still holding onto his mother, staring over her head at Kirk and Sulu. Chekov shuddered, staring into his lap as his hand slipped off of the console.

Spock turned. His father’s gaze, not quite so stony, met his own. Two more elders had been lost, and with them, every katra they had been trusted with.

Amanda darted to her husband’s side, one hand dragging Spock along for the inevitable embrace. He sighed, bowing his head in the grieving silence of the transporter room. Straightening after catching his breath, the Acting-Captain looked over the Starfleet officers still waiting for his orders. “Sulu, get us out of range of the singularity _immediately_. I will meet you on the bridge shortly; you have the con until then.”

“Aye, sir.”

Rubbing once over his face, Spock looked down at his mother again, hearing her voice through their familial bond. _Proud of you . . . proud of my son._

_Mother. I . . . I am overwhelmed. Your words mean much to me, but I am unable to appreciate them right now._

Sarek lifted his hand, and Spock bowed his head to his father’s expertise, a trust he had not been able to indulge in since he had left for Earth. The cool heat of his father’s mind washed against his own turbulent storm, soothing and showing the paths that the thoughts could take if he could find even a teaspoon’s worth of focus. It was a lesson in centering himself all over again, given without censure in this harrowing time. And . . . following that . . . a rare admission of emotion, carefully regulated. Pride in his son, gratefulness that even through their childish feud, they were still blood family. He was grateful for all this father shared with him, allowing himself that simple emotion before Sarek broke contact and nodded, a silent agreement to truce their childish silent treatment during the crisis. Spock knew that a lengthy discussion was bound to happen once they had settled again. “I am gratified, my son, that you had been so quick to come to us. I understand that you have your duties.”

Nodding, Spock looked to his first officer, much as he couldn’t stand the cadet. “Kirk, please bring my parents and the elders to the med bay for evaluation.”

“Yes, sir. Shall I assign quarters for Ambassador Sarek, his bondmate, and the High Counsel?” The intelligence behind those blue eyes was startling, shocking Spock into realizing that _Kirk now knew who he was_. Kirk knew that there were emotions living deep within the hearts of his people. He wasn’t sure if he even approved of the fact that this cadet, who outwardly seemed irrationally arrogant over the last three years, would be around his parents. He was having trouble separating the visage of a boy in the midst of immaturely bucking the parameters of Starfleet regulations, culminating with hacking his test, with the serious and earnest man before him who reeked of ozone and disruptor discharge. It was odd to see how under all the bluster, there was an officer waiting and ready to serve.

“Please do, Mr. Kirk. Report to the bridge via Lieutenant Uhura once everyone has been settled.” He started towards the door, only to be halted with Kirk’s next question.

“Every Vulcan on our ship?”

Spock was suddenly grateful that Cadet Kirk was showing gentle diplomacy in this moment. He wasn’t sure that he could control all of his emotions should words such as _refugees_ or _survivors_ were used. “If you are capable of doing so, it would be appreciated. If you need personnel to assist you in this, you have my permission to reassign them as you see fit, providing that you are not taking them from necessary tasks.”

“Acknowledged, Captain.” He turned to the remaining council members upon the transporter pad as Spock left for the bridge. “Sirs, madams, if you would please follow me to the medbay.”

Amanda frowned at seeing the young man cradling one hand close to his body. “What happened to your hand?”

The sheer _emotion_ in her voice stopped Jim in his tracks as he really _looked_ at her face and noted the soft and emotional eyes before he continued on. “Ma’am, you’re human?”

“Oh, like you’re _not_ ,” she sassed right back at him, too exhausted and relieved for proper etiquette. She’d catch hell for this later from T’Pau for showing such humanity while representing their clan. “What did you do?”

He blushed, looking straight ahead. Well, that explained where Spock’s sass came from. “I was part of the team that disabled the drill, and it was injured while I was fighting a Romulan. I’m sorry that we couldn’t have gotten to it faster. We _should_ have been able to shut it down faster.”

“But do you know how many you have saved?” Amanda rebuffed, drawing herself up, halting the progress of the entire group.

“Wife,” Sarek murmured, fondness across their bond softening the rebuke. “Mr. Kirk, you will know what your actions have resulted in once the reports have all been made. I will counsel you as I once had my son: do not allow yourself to be blinded by the possibilities that were ruled out by our own choices. I understand that this is a harder concept for humans, as your minds work differently than ours. But it was through your actions that Spock was able to save _us_.”

Blue eyes darted down to the decking below their feet, then back up at the solemn gaze of his Captain’s father. And he drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you, sir, for your wisdom. I will try to keep it in mind.”

“For a young man in these circumstances, that is all that I ask.” He indicated that they continue onwards.

Amanda paced tirelessly by his side. _Sarek?_

He tilted his head towards her marginally. _I am compromised, wife. The familial bonds . . . gone. Very few remain, and it is difficult to keep my emotions in check. Logic fails me at the enormity of the situation we have found ourselves in._

_Once we are in our quarters, you will have time for the meditation you need._

_And of you, ashaya?_

_I will be seeing what I can do to help. I’ll be processing my emotions through action, as you know me to do._

_You are a goddess among mortals, light of my life._

_And they said that Vulcans weren’t romantic._

The tease was an old one, and brought a brief sparkle to Sarek’s eye. He didn’t care who saw as he extended two fingers towards Amanda, who met them with her own. Kirk kept glancing back over the group as if someone was bound to wander off. He caught the gesture, blinked, then turned down the next hallway to lead the Elders into the busy medbay. They were triaged, and Jim found himself out of his jumpsuit and back in simple regulation blacks, waiting with nothing to do until his name was called. Thankfully, they had given him a simple pain-reliever that was on his “acceptable medications” list that Bones kept his file updated with. Being born in a shuttle in irradiated space had been shit on his genetics, and his immune system still hasn’t forgiven his poor timing of arriving early.

A small form in black robes darted across the floor.

He leaned around one of the nurses, and confirmed that what he had seen was a young Vulcan. Fabric rustled close to his ear, and he looked up to see Amanda following his gaze. “Ma’am?”

“Amanda, please. Are you comfortable?”

“Got a hypo for the pain and I was about to ask for a PADD to start quarters assignments while I wait. Is the Ambassador all right?”

“He’s assisting with mind-healing, which really is only temporary fixes until others can be found. He will meditate as soon as we are free to find our quarters.”

He nodded towards the corner he had seen the small form retreating towards. “I’ve never seen or been around Vulcan children.”

“They are much like human children at times; insatiable for knowledge while lacking the strict emotional balance of adults. Often, I find that they’re much more serious than human children, striving to be like the logical adults they admire and idolize.” She drew a breath, tugging on her headscarf to make sure it was still firmly secured. “While you wait for treatment, will you help me with them?”

Almost before she had finished speaking, Jim was up and moving with her to the corner where several classes and ages of young Vulcans had taken up residence. Doctor M’Benga was speaking with one of the eldest, or at least attempting to. The young woman was trembling, unresponsive to the gentle words from the large man. Amanda shouldered him aside, barking something in Vulcan. The young woman snapped to attention, replying immediately as if she were answering a quiz on something important. 

Shuddering, she drew in a deep breath and visibly steadied herself. Amanda smiled, nodded, and continued in Standard. “I know that the loss of so many bonds in your mind is upsetting and you are unbalanced. But we must remain connected with those who are left in order to continue onwards. I need your help with the younger ones; we have to give them something to do outside of their minds and the pain they are experiencing. I . . . I have lost several of my own bonds today. I grieve with thee.”

The young woman nodded, eyes pressing shut tightly in an effort to control her emotions. She straightened herself and looked at Jim, who took that as a cue to walk closer. “The youngest are . . . very emotional.”

“And a human might be able to help calm them because we’re more expressive with our emotions?” he guessed, looking over to where a gaggle of _very_ young Vulcans were silently weeping. He looked to Amanda, then back to the young woman. “I know that you have touch-telepathy; I don’t want to come across wrong to your Elders. How can I help the littlest children without causing a scandal? If they were human children, I would be cuddling them to give them comfort and reassurance.”

“Touch from parents or clan members helps children center their minds, but . . . the adults are as distressed as they are, and cannot help them find peace.” She looked up at M’Benga, then to Amanda. “Your species’ ability to process emotion differently than Vulcans is a strength at this time; your touch will not be seen as inappropriate.”

“Got it. Amanda, I’m going to work with the toddlers. I don’t have enough Vulcan vocabulary for anyone over the age of ten.” He looked to the young woman. “My name is Jim Kirk.”

“T’Lyra.”

Nodding, he looked up at M’Benga. “Do you have blankets and those emergency kit sleeping pads?”

“Yes. I’ll have orderlies come and help pass them out. Now that you and the Ambassador’s wife are taking care of this, I’ve—”

“Other people to heal. Go; I’ve got this until I have to report to the bridge. I’ll also need a PADD.”

“I’ll try to update Captain Spock with your adjusted duties,” M’Benga replied, pulling out his own PADD and making some notations to send to their commanding officer. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He stood and began moving carefully to where the smallest children were curled into a puppy-pile. Amanda and T’Lyra made their way through the several small pods of children, gravitating to different ages. As he got closer to his goal of the youngest who were carefully sheltered in a defensible corner, he could hear the muffled whimpers.

_Sa-mekh._

_Ko-mekh._

Father. Mother.

Settling down in a free space, he rested his hand along one cool back, startling the toddler and the several others who were holding onto each other. Like a wave, little faces turned to stare at him. Dark eyes brimming with tears searched his own, and one small hand rested upon the back of his much-larger one. He knew that the child was reading him. “Hey, hey there. _Tushah nash-veh k’dular_.” His accent was neutral, neither awful nor flowing, and he had made sure to use modifiers that indicated his understanding of their age.

He could feel distress, _acres_ of distress, compounded by how many children were experiencing emotional and mental pain all at the same time through their touch with each other. Drawing his mental self in, he breathed outwards before doing his best to project safety, protection, and acceptance through the one little hand. “Oof!”

Heads with both pointed and rounded ears swiveled in his direction as he was buried under a heap of softly-keening Vulcan children. He didn’t dare pull his attention away from the little ones burrowing closer, each trying to get as close as possible to the adult for safety and warmth. He curled his arms around as many as he could, noting how careful the children were of his injured hand. They had felt his own pain, even though it was dulled.

When the orderlies came back through with the blankets, three sleeping pads, and a PADD he could sign into. He wrapped each soft fleece around two children to keep them warm together. Eight children to each pad, which was shaped in a U around his body. One of the two toddlers rested their hand or back against his leg or side. The contact and the swaddling seemed to help soothe most of them into exhausted napping. After a half hour of soothing them, he began the room assignments on current schematics of safe and unsafe areas of the ship.

Occasionally, the toddlers would switch positions, giving the other child a chance to have direct contact with Jim. A nurse called his name for treatment, realized where he was, and came over to him to crouch awkwardly over the puddle of sleeping children to treat his hand. Jim kept typing with the other hand, keeping up communication with Uhura on the bridge for who was where. She’d want to know where he suspected her future in-laws were going to be staying after that kiss he walked in on and spun right back out of the ready room.

He didn’t expect her to open a video call after his second response, which had been awkwardly typed with his bandaged hand and good hand. “Where _are_ you?”

“Still in the medbay, just got my hand treated.”

“We need you on the bridge, Kirk.”

“I’d love to be there, but . . .” He moved the camera away from his face to show where he was currently held hostage by sleeping Vulcan toddlers.

Uhura’s hand covered her mouth, eyes welling up. Spock was over her shoulder in an instant, ready to rebuke Kirk for not obeying quickly, only to fall silent, mouth still open. He blinked rapidly, closed his eyes, and whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ve just forwarded the room assignments to you for your approval. As soon as we have some functional Vulcans down here, I’ll be seeing about getting the kids assigned to those who are mentally stable. I won’t lie; there’s not much that I think can be done except for doing what I’m doing right now until adoptive family units can be created.” One of the children started whimpering, and he paused, looking around until he found the little one. He smoothed curly hair down, rubbing his thumb along one cheek to wipe away the sleeping tears. Looking back up at the PADD, he opened his mouth, then closed it at the heartbroken expression on his Captain’s face. “Spock.”

The expression was gone as quickly as it had been shown. “You continually fascinate me with your actions, Mr. Kirk. Please continue your vigil with the children. I will only call you to the bridge for an emergency, but would prefer your help in formulating a plan of action within the next several hours.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll make sure that I have people ready to help with the kiddos by then.”

Spock turned away, leaving Uhura alone on the screen. She stared at Jim for a very long moment before whispering, “You’re not at all what I expected.”

Jim smiled sadly. “Facades are how I’ve operated for a very long time, Uhura. They’re how I’ve survived through some pretty awful situations.”

One of the toddlers woke up, crawled out of the blanket, and spread-eagled himself across Jim’s chest, clutching his shirt in chubby fingers and gently butting his head against Jim’s chin. He leaned his head down to kiss the dark crown, murmuring soft endearments in his neutrally-accented Vuhlkansu until the child fell back asleep, still holding onto him. He looked back up to see Uhura still watching him, not hiding the tears that fell along her cheeks. Of course she would know the words he said, the love he freely gave to the little survivor. “Hey, hey, now. Uhura, it’s okay. See if you can get some time away from your station. Even to take a walk, get some hot cocoa with heaps of marshmallows, and get yourself some space from the ops center, okay?”

She nodded, still crying, and hit the button to disconnect the call. Jim sighed, then began the next phase of organizing people. Soon, Spock was sending him personnel queries for who could be best trusted with mentoring the children until they returned to Earth. He looked around for Amanda, and was surprised to find Sarek watching him steadily, Amanda resting against his side while conversing with a handful of ten-year-olds. “Ambassador?”

“Yes, Mr. Kirk?”

“May I have your assistance?”

“Absolutely.” He shifted and Amanda straightened, continuing talking to the children, who were replying in unison. It was a teaching lesson, quizzing them. And it drew them out of their minds and their pain, giving them something familiar to hold onto. Sarek took up the free space between Jim’s head and the walls, sinking into a compact cross-legged position and taking the PADD from his hands. “Ah. Foster situations.”

“For the younger kids, yes. And mentoring for the older children who are closer to the age of emancipation, or are mentally independent enough to not need a parental figure hovering over them. I’d like to give the older ones the choice between a Vulcan and a Starfleet officer to be mentored by while they’re on the ship, and formally assigning both to the care of the child, regardless of the child’s choice of mentor. That way, both the Vulcan and Starfleet officer will have time to rest from the stress of our situation. And giving the children something to do to stretch their reasoning and intellect seems to be helpful in their emotional control.”

“I am keen to agree. Amanda and T’Lyra have stated similar theories, as an inactive mind grows maudlin.”

“I know that sensation all too well.” Jim sighed and waited for the PADD to return to him. A little girl woke up from the nap and reached up towards his face, only to pause at seeing the stern visage of an Elder watching her. He reached down and stroked her little eyebrows, soothing her. She snuggled against her blanket-mate, watching Jim’s face. He cupped an arm around the toddler still on his chest as he curled close enough to nuzzle his face against her hair, snuffling quickly. It surprised a giggle out of the little one, and she gasped, holding her hands over her mouth. Jim smiled and settled back again. “It’s okay. I think we’ll let you giggle _this_ time,” he teased.

“Sehlat!” she whispered. “You are like a sehlat! My . . . my elder brother had a sehlat . . .”

“What is it? What’s a sehlat?” he asked gently, as the children began to wake up from their emotionally-exhausted nap.

“Big,” one of the little boys said, eyes round and bright.

“Teeth and claws and fur!” another whispered.

“And they are our friends. They are loyal.”

“Captain Spock had a sehlat when he was a child,” Sarek said, handing the PADD back to Jim. “I-Chaya held all of those attributes. Mr. Kirk, a sehlat could be described as a cross between a bear and a large cat, but with the temperament of a stubborn dog.”

Jim grinned at the description. “Sounds like my kind of pet.”

A slanted eyebrow raised, showing the cadet exactly where Spock got the expression from. Sarek opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by an infant’s wail. Amanda was up off of the bench she had been perched upon in an instant, looking for the origin of the distressed cry. M’Benga hurried over with a bundle in his arms, his voice low and sad. She took the bundle, leaning her face down to murmur and attempt to soothe the infant. Jim heard the soft, fond exhalation from the Ambassador above him, and looked up at the Vulcan. He lifted a hand towards Amanda, who picked her way expertly through the children to sit beside him upon the floor. “The mother died in childbirth. She had been injured, but insisted that they save her child.”

“How premature is it?” Jim asked, voice gentle, careful.

Amanda’s gaze sharpened upon him, and her mouth formed a small, perfect “oh.” Tears welled up in front of chocolate irises, and Sarek spoke for both of them. “We did not make the connection; you are Winona and George’s son. Amanda and Winona attended Starfleet together, and we often met one another in social settings. George and Amanda interned together, and we spent many evenings enjoying one another’s company.” He must have realized that he was wandering, leading Jim to believe that the Vulcan was still trying to center himself from emotional distress. “The child is a month early, but that is not too early for him to thrive. Vulcans gestate for ten months, rather than the standard forty weeks of human gestations.”

Jim closed his eyes, trying desperately not to let his grief surface. He had just gotten the children settled, and couldn’t afford to lose control right now. “Can we revisit this in a few days? I’m emotionally exhausted but I’d _really_ like to sit and talk with you about this.”

Sarek nodded, and curled a brave toddler close to his side. Jim looked back at the PADD and the list for fostering, nearly dropping it onto the kid on his chest in shock. “Sir . . . _me_?! I’m . . . I’m not . . . I’m—”

“Perfectly qualified, as shown by the fact that you calmed what any young Vulcan male would have retreated from with due haste: a pack of unhappy, emotionally distressed toddlers. You will note that I did list my son among the mentors for the older children; he would have less patience to see to the needs of a toddler in addition to his responsibilities to the Enterprise. You do not seem to have quite so many responsibilities, but for whatever reasons he may have deduced through logical procedure, Spock trusts your judgment.”

“Oh. I’m not so sure about that, though. Just before we got the distress signal from Vulcan, we were in a disciplinary hearing about me cheating on the _Kobayashi Maru_ test.”

“Did you cheat?”

“The test is a no-win situation. It’s not realistic. So I adjusted the parameters of the test, gave it several possible-if-unlikely win scenarios which would be triggered by any number of choices I could have made. Or I could have failed it for a third time.”

“Fascinating.”

“It took three months to write that code.”

“You’re George and Winona’s son all right,” Amanda chuckled, having soothed the newborn into slumber. Her fingers did not still against the little head until an orderly hurried over with a bottle in a warmer for Amanda.

“Oh. Damn. Sorry, hold a second please.” He pulled up his messages, shooting off a quick message to his mother. He got a video request half a minute later, just after sending Spock the list of humans and Vulcans who were best suited for helping with the children.

Winona’s tear-streaked face dominated the screen, and Jim smiled wearily at her. “Hey, Ma.”

“James Tiberius, I wish you were still small enough that I could bend you over a knee and spank you.”

“I love you.”

She sighed, head falling forward before she hissed, “I was worried about you.”

“To be fair, I didn’t have enough time to message you until now. I’m still in the middle of things.”

“Quite literally,” Amanda chuckled.

Winona’s face froze in recognition of that voice, and Jim smiled, feeling entirely exhausted as he tipped the screen up a little to show the Ambassador and his wife sitting on a low bench above his head. “Look who found me.”

“Winona, your son is too much like you.” Amanda waved the transmission away. “James, show her why you are _literally_ in the middle of things.”

“You’re trouble,” he laughed, showing off the pile of awake and interested toddlers. “Hey kiddos, say hi to Commander Kirk. She’s my _ko-mekh_ , and she’s the joint chief engineer on another starship.”

A disjointed chorus of greetings in Standard and Vuhlkansu made Winona’s face break out into a smile. “Oh, the little darlings. Yes, Jim, I see that you’ve been busy. When we meet up in the Laurentian system, I’ve a request out to transfer to the Enterprise. My replacement here is enough to handle anything that could happen.”

“Wait. We’re meeting up with you _where_?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I’ve been in medbay for the last three hours. I’m gonna have words with my Captain—”

A second chat window opened up, and Kirk hissed, “Mom, one moment.” Muting that line, he looked directly at Spock’s face on the new line. “The _Laurentian_ system? _Really_ , Captain? You _know_ he’s going to head to Earth next! You _heard_ what he said to you! He’s going to keep hammering away at what _you_ supposedly did to assist in this future Romulus’ demise, and the _next logical step_ is to destroy _Earth_.”

Spock stiffened and sat back, steepling his fingers. “Your theory coincides with a distress message we have just received from Delta Vega; we will reroute with the information that they will bring to us. There will be two beaming aboard to transporter room one. I am aware that there are children who will be severely distressed to part from your presence, but I request that you leave at least _most_ of them in the medbay with my parents. I have determined that these two will not be any threat to the Enterprise. Once they are aboard, we will be plotting our course for Earth.”

Jim narrowed his eyes. Who was this Vulcan that was suddenly so in tune with the emotional needs of others, especially his own culture’s? This wasn’t the same person who had coldly accused him of not recalling his father’s sacrifice. “Yes, sir.”

“Spock out.” The window closed.

Jim pulled his mother’s window up again. “Duty calls. I’m leaving my PADD with Amanda and the Ambassador. You can contact this number if you need updates on our situation. I love you. Stay safe.”

“Jimmy, don’t you _dare_ pull any heroics. I won’t lose you to the black, too.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I love you. Adopt one of those little sweet things and give me a grandchild.”

Snorting a laugh, he replied, “We’ll see what happens. Gotta go.”

“Drive fast, take chances.”

“Always do, and _look_ where that got me,” he replied, smiling for her until she terminated the call. Handing the PADD to Sarek, Jim slowly sat up. “Okay, kiddos. You heard Captain Spock. I have to go meet a couple people, and I don’t know how soon I’ll be back. Can you stay with Ambassador Sarek and his _adun-a_?”

Little solemn heads nodded, save for the one who clutched tighter to his chest. “Okay, you. You can stay with me for a while. What’s your name?”

“Ych’a Lyras Arev.”

Standing, propping the toddler on his hip. “All right, Arev. Would you like to help me greet a couple people?” He half expected a quip about liking something being illogical, but was pleasantly surprised when he got a nod instead. “Okay.” Looking down at the puddle of pudgy Vulcan faces watching him with a seriousness that would have looked out of place had they been human, he smiled brightly. “Stay with Ambassador Sarek and Amanda; they’ll tell you who else is safe to be around, okay?”

“Yes, Mr. Kirk,” came the return chorus. He smiled and nodded his approval, moving swiftly out of the medbay, snagging a spare portable PADD to shove into his back pocket for any communication needs between the bridge and himself. He explained what riding his shoulders meant while on the way, and Arev immediately wanted to try it, his robes splitting to give Kirk a bit of a cape around his shoulders. Chekov was still manning the transporter room while working on navigation equations on a spare PADD. He blinked up at Kirk, breaking into a broad grin at the sight of a bitty Vulcan sitting solemnly and holding onto Jim’s hair for purchase.

“Mr. Chekov, are our guests ready to be beamed up?”

“Aye, sir. Awaiting your command.”

“Energize.” Jim crossed his arms over his chest, locking Arev’s feet against him in case he had to move quickly.

Chocolate brown eyes bored into his own.

Amanda’s eyes.

_Spock’s_ eyes.

He stifled a curse and frowned as the old Vulcan seemed visibly frozen in shock. “James T. Kirk.”

Jim’s eyes hardened. “Yes. Lieutenant and first officer of the starship Enterprise. To whom am I addressing?”

Seeming to come back to himself, the Vulcan replied, “First officer?” This seemed to shock the old man more than seeing his face. “I am Selek. I . . . knew your father briefly.”

“Universe is getting quite a bit smaller; you’re the second Vulcan to say that they knew my parents in the last hour. Who’s your companion?”

“Montgomery Scott, an engineer.”

Jim smirked. “Of the famous Beagle transporter incident. Admiral Archer is still pissed and still references the incident in lectures. Where _is_ that dog, anyway?”

The Scotsman coughed, clearly embarrassed. “I’ll let you know when it shows up.”

Selek took a notice of the quiet toddler upon his shoulders white-knuckling Jim’s hair. Chekov blinked at Jim, then muttered something in Russian before standing. “Bridge, sir?”

“Yeah, let’s. And let’s figure out what the hell that Romulan psychopath is up to.”

“That is part of the reason why I am on your ship. I have a unique insight into his pathos.” Selek followed Jim out. As they passed the corridor that lead to the medbay, Jim paused at seeing Sarek, T’Lyra, and another toddler in his arms.

“Mr. Kirk,” Sarek greeted. “T’Lyra will be accompanying you to the bridge to assist your navigation.”

“Captain Spock knows?” Jim could almost _feel_ the old Vulcan’s shock this time.

“Yes, sir,” T’Lyra replied with a nod. She looked a little out of place with her Vulcan Science Academy robes on the starship, but he wasn’t going to question it.

“Sehlat-Jim!” the toddler cried, little arms reaching for him. “Sehlat-Jim!”

He sighed, smiling. “Hey, sweetie. Someone else wanted me, huh, curlicue? Arev, make sure you hold on, okay? I need to free up one arm.”

“Yes, Jim,” the tiny solemn voice replied, adjusting his grip.

“And who is this beautiful little girl?” Jim asked, taking the little girl and curling her close to his heartbeat.

“Ych’a Satelk T’Raya,” she whispered. “Arev is my cousin.”

“Then we’d better keep the two of you close together, huh, T’Raya?”

“Yes, please.”

Jim smiled up at Sarek. “Thank you, Ambassador. Amanda should have an approved list of mentors by now, as well as the finalized quarters assignment on the PADD I loaned her. I’ll see if I can send a few crewmembers your way to help your people find where they’re staying.”

“I appreciate all that you have done for us so far, James Kirk.” Without giving him time to reply, Sarek turned and swept down the hallway. 

“All right. Let’s get this parade up to Spock before he has a coronary. Can’t wait to get back to Earth and pick up where we left off.”

Chekov snorted, failing to hide a grin. “Academic integrity hearings in your honor seems to giwe you much joy, sir.”

“Yeah, let me tell you, it’s a _blast_. Try it sometime.”

~*~

McCoy met them on the turbolift to the bridge, freshly scrubbed and smelling of antiseptic and scotch. “Well, don’t _you_ look cozy with babies, Jim. Starfleet will make a family man out of you yet.”

“Bones, you’re _such_ a ray of sunshine.”

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it.” He pulled out a scanner, quickly getting readings off of the little Vulcans before frowning. “Well, oddly enough, these two are more stable than the rest of the toddlers.”

“Found out that they’re cousins. Think that might have something to do with it?”

“They retain at least one familial bond,” Selek added. Jim noticed that he was watching McCoy with the same level of scrutiny that he had received. “Perhaps they have begun developing other bonds, but that is difficult to ascertain without performing a meld.”

“They aren’t too young for that Vulcan voodoo?” Bones holstered the tricorder and folded his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow at the old man.

“It is how we learn how to control our minds and our emotions. It is also how most Vulcan children gain comfort from family members, particularly their parents.”

The door slid open to the bridge, and Jim strode out, trailing two Vulcans, a navigator, and a doctor in his wake. Uhura and Spock stood nose-to-nose, hissing Vulcan at each other almost heatedly. Selek’s eyebrows raised, and Jim frowned, catching the gist of their spat. He cleared his throat. “Captain.”

“Mr. Kirk,” Spock turned and froze at the sight of their guests.

“I just fucking _knew_ it,” Jim hissed with a grin. That look of carefully-not-showing-shock was identical. “Kids, don’t say that word that begins with F.”

“Yes, Jim,” they chorused.

Settling T’Raya on the ground, he shifted Arev to her side, crossing his arms and looking between Selek and Spock. Uhura’s eyes were wide, but stern. “Old man, you had better start explaining _who_ you are and _where_ you’re from.”

Vulcan stubbornness was evident on the wrinkled features for a moment before he sighed. “I should have anticipated that you would have guessed my identity, Jim. I am Spock. Although . . . not necessarily of this time or universe.”

“Secure the bridge,” the younger Spock barked. “Mark all logs as confidential until further notice.” He turned to Jim. “You suspected.”

“He has your mother’s eyes, and I just spent three hours with her and your father helping keep juvenile Vulcans calm. There’s certain quirks of body language that are hard to miss between the two in combination.” It went unsaid that Amanda’s eyes were Spock’s eyes, and one must have taken notice of those to match the two together.

Uhura crossed her arms over her chest, watching the old Spock. She needed to hear him speak more before she gave her opinion. But so far, small behavioral tics were eerie to see on old features when in comparison to the young Spock that she knew.

“James Kirk has always been a quick study,” the old man said, eyes twinkling. “He was a most adept captain in my time. Which is why I was shocked to see our roles reversed on the Enterprise.”

“I’m still a cadet; I haven’t even _served_ as an officer on a ship, only as an ensign on the Farragut last summer. I’m _twenty-five_. I have no business being captain when I don’t have the experience. Captain Spock _does_.”

“And yet now you are the first officer. It is not that much of a step to Captaincy.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ll get the flagship, and _why_ is this such a big deal for you?” Jim sighed explosively, hyperaware of the toddlers each clinging to a pant leg. “This is irrelevant.” Turning and locking eyes with the Spock from his time, he rested hands on his hips. “Captain, we have to go after Nero. And _he_ says that he has information about this whole problem . . .” He stopped himself before he began cursing in earnest. “He’s the reason why Nero asked for you.”

“And . . . the reason why Vulcan is no more,” the old voice said in barely above a whisper. The emotion of the voice was heartbreaking. “Speaking about it cannot give you all the information that you need in the time that we have remaining.”

“You propose a meld.” Captain Spock eyed his counterpart distrustfully. “I do not trust that your emotional transference would not compromise my own balance at this time.”

Jim looked down at the little Vulcans. When he had soothed the toddlers, he had figured that they had done light melds to gain mental stability off of his own. “I volunteer.”

“Mr. Kirk, this is not a light undertaking. Humans have related the mental exhaustion of a meld to the physical equivalent of completing a triathlon without any training or preparation.”

“Listen, I don’t have much emotional energy left after the last twelve hours. I’ve spent the last three of those hours helping calm down a pack of baby Vulcans, and let me tell you, they needed it. If I don’t have much left to give, that means that I have less to be triggered by than other humans. Just how my particular brand of mental health seems to go.”

“Do you speak from experience?” Captain Spock asked.

Jim nodded. "I have . . . endured through various traumas, Captain. None that I am willing to air in public on the bridge, regardless of security settings. A good chunk of my file is still filed as confidential, limited to less than a handful of Admirals."

McCoy grunted. “I know most of you don’t know much about Kirk (Uhura, you’ve known him the longest and I’ve heard about _that_ stunning show of his immaturity), but one thing that he _doesn’t_ do is exaggerate his mental or emotional capabilities. Kid says he can handle something on those fronts, he _means_ it. Professional opinion.” He paused. “Personal opinion? Don’t be a foolhardy pain in the ass, Jim, I don’t wanna piece you back together when his brain lets go of yours.”

“Thanks, Bones. So as my doctor, do you sanction it?”

“I want the kids settled somewhere and not touching you so that you don’t transfer anything to them unintentionally, _and_ I’ll be running an active scan while you meld.”

Jim nodded, crouching down to look at the cousins. They nodded, having followed the conversation, and T’Raya gripped Arev’s sleeve. He led them over to Uhura, trusting her judgment and her grasp of the language to give them comfort if they needed it. They wavered on their feet, but stayed beside the communications officer while he straightened, licking his lips and preparing himself for his mind to be invaded. He liked his mental privacy. He was psi-null, and it comforted him. Opening his eyes, he nodded to the old Spock.

The elder lowered his voice, “I apologize in advance, old friend. This . . . will not be the easiest meld.”

“Do it.”

Old fingers braced upon his face, and he fell into the vastness of a mind . . . that knew his own.  
Intimately.

On all levels.

And he was lost in a universe so profoundly anguished, riddled with facts and images of a time not his own. A Vulcan phrase. A sensation of a kiss. Hands held, _caressed_ and erotic in a way that was almost foreign but decidedly erotic and arousing. And then Spock gathered those memories close to his core again, shaken at his own lack of control.

A future Starfleet. Klingon engineers working alongside Vulcan. A host of species he’d never seen before, both friend and foe. Nero. Romulus. Red matter. Lightning storm in space.

Jim was propelled out of the meld and he gasped, staggering to one side, blinded momentarily by tears and the lights of the bridge. He had the information necessary, but couldn’t find it in himself to sort through it as he found his balance again. Firm hands held him upright as he shuddered with sobs that he dared not let too close to the surface. Slowly, he drew himself back into his mental sanctuary and physically straightened up, rubbing his eyes on his sleeves. Emotional transference. Well, that was a hell of a lot different than toddlers.

Blue sleeves kept him upright.

But it wasn’t Bones’ antiseptic scent that invaded his nose.

Spice and incense and musk and alien and _familiar_.

Rubbing at his face briskly to dispel the last of the waylaid emotions and rolling his shoulders, Jim drew in a steadying breath. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Your thanks are unnecessary.”

Jim’s lips flattened, though not in anger with his Captain. He nodded, understanding the Vulcan so much better after being in the head of a very, very weary older version. “We have to reach Nero before he gets to Earth. He has a weapon on board that he can and _will_ use to replicate what he did to Vulcan. I will _not_ allow him to do that again.”

“You propose we catch up to him? He will surely notice.”

Two small hands gripped his pant legs again, and Jim sighed, sitting down in the open Navigator’s seat to pull the toddlers into his lap, curling them against his chest and letting them settle down against him. They felt cold, fingers and ear-tips pale in the human-friendly environment of the spaceship. Arev kept one hand on the back of his neck while he clung to his chest, needing the surface meld. “We don’t have a _choice_ , Spock. His target is Earth. To destroy everything that could possibly have _ever_ meant anything to you. Chekov, T’Lyra, can you see what you can pull up for possible courses? We need absolute stealth.”

“Aye, sir,” Chekov leapt into action, T’Lyra on his heels. Bones scanned him again, then grimaced. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Blood sugar is low.”

“I know, Bones, knock off the mother-henning for a moment, will you?”

“Not likely, kid. Spock, you eat recently?”

“No,” two voices replied. McCoy rolled his eyes. “Great. _Two_ of the pointy-eared hobgoblins.” He typed furiously into his PADD. “I want everyone on this bridge to eat a full meal, and I don’t care if you eat it at your station. That includes the kids, since they’re pretty much part of Jim right now. Don’t argue. Full bellies fuel minds.”

Spock moved closer, lowering his voice. “Is this wise?”

“Keeping the children around me, or saving Earth? Because my answer to both is ‘yes.’ But is it _feasible_ , is it within our capabilities? That is what we _have_ to find out. And I’m willing to do _anything_ to save as many people as we can.”

There was almost an expression of satisfaction on the Vulcan captain’s face. “On that, Mr. Kirk, we can agree entirely.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Panic Attacks, child abuse mention, domestic abuse mention, survivor's guilt, ptsd, anxiety, anxiety attacks
> 
> Kirk has a pretty intense panic attack in the first few paragraphs of this chapter. Once you get past all the dialogue in the beginning, that's the end of it.

He jerked awake in a full panic attack, throat painful from screaming. His eyes weren’t working! He couldn’t see, but could _feel_ strong arms bound around him to keep him from running. No. NO! He was trapped! He couldn’t breathe! “NO! No-no-no! Lemme go!”

“Kirk! Commander Kirk, you’re safe!”

“No, lemme _go_! I can’t! I can’t! No! I won’t do it again, don’t make me do it again! _Please!_ ”

“Commander Kirk, I need you to _calm down_!”

“Get _off_ of me! I can’t see! What happened to my eyes?! I can’t see! Bones! _Bones!_ ”

“He’s delirious! Someone get a sedative! _And get McCoy!_ ”

“No! No _no no!_ Don’t put me under! Stop putting me under! _Spock! Help me!_ ”

Feet pounded closer at a full run. A hand touched his face, cool and—

The blackness in front of his gaze faded, and someone was _in his mind_ , reminding him how to breathe, actually breathing in time with him, helping him calm, helping him realize where he was. _Who_ he was. Who they _both_ were. Even though his stomach quaked and shook with every breath he took, he tried so very, very hard to keep in time with the strong, even breaths of the person melding with him.

It wasn’t the Old Spock. He felt overwhelmed with relief that it was his Captain that saw him like this, not the Elder. Anyone too much older than themselves would have caused an even worse panic. Jim relaxed back against whoever was holding him, and pressed his face closer to Spock’s hand as peace settled in, battling against anxiety and sheer, mindless panic. It wasn’t his peace. It was from outside of his mind. He held onto it with a steel mental grip, curling into it and trying to bury himself in the safety of his Captain’s mind.

_Warmth_ of simple returned regard flowed from Spock’s side of the meld, followed by a hesitant sensation of query. It was so easy to discern that Spock wouldn't hold it against him if he couldn't share what troubled him.

_Panic attack. I . . . I sometimes wake up with them. Haven't had one in a while, but after Nero, I guess I was due for one. It’s . . . the cause of it . . . it's not pretty. But you can look. It’s . . . it’s the traumas I spoke about. I barely passed some of Starfleet’s psych evals when I joined, but . . . it’s because my experiences were such severe outliers to the normal range that they let me in. I’ve been . . . I’ve been going to a therapist every week to bring my evals into a normal range. Succeeded, too, just six months ago_. He was proud of himself for that success in his personal life. He hid his fractures as best as he could, but . . . his Captain _needed_ to know where he was weak. He also babbled when he was coming out of his panic attacks. Helped him hear his voice, connect with an outside sense. Apparently, mental babbling worked just as well.

He didn’t know how much Spock saw, but he could tell when the Vulcan shakily returned “close” to Jim’s consciousness. Abruptly, he felt irrationally guilty for involving his Captain in mental problems only he could fix. Even though he’d done well for himself and needed Spock to know where he, as First Officer, couldn’t be counted on for support at times—

_Your desire to heal yourself is both commendable and logical. Do not feel guilt in regard to my concern in your welfare; you have shown greater strength of will, intellect, and compassion than many of the Starfleet officers I have served with. I do not judge you for the actions and demands of others, Jim, and I am grateful for your assistance in the past two weeks._

His name. He could weep with relief at the emotional tags that followed after his name in the meld. He couldn’t even _name_ half of what Spock had let slip. Briefly, he tried to send something akin to _thank you_ , but that was muddled up with _affection_ and _longing_. Jim winced, but again, felt the wave of peace smoothing over his self-censure. Slowly, he was brought back to the surface, and felt the meld end, Spock leaving his fingers on Jim’s face while he opened his eyes.

Bones stood with a hypo at the ready, Uhura over his shoulder with a hand over her mouth and shock in her eyes. Jim slowly looked to see who had been holding him still, and blushed scarlet when he saw none other than Ambassador Sarek, who slowly released him. “I apologize if you find injury, Commander Kirk; you struggled with a strength I had not anticipated.”

“Ambassador, did I hurt you?” Jim whispered, voice hoarse.

“No. I may not be in my youth, but I am still easily able to contain a human. Do you suffer panic attacks often, Mr. Kirk?”

Blushing furiously, the young man closed his eyes and bowed his head. “Yes, though not as severely or as often as I had before Starfleet.” He looked up at McCoy, who nodded his approval of Jim’s honesty, holstered his hypospray, and pulled out a scanner. They shared a look before Jim let his gaze fall. “I won’t get into details, but I . . . I was on Tarsus when the colony fell. That experience was bracketed by domestic violence.”

“Commander,” Uhura’s voice broke over the syllables, the look in her gaze easy for Jim to read.

He glared at her. “Do _not_ pity me. I’ve had enough of pity to last me until my dying breath. I crawled out of several hells to get to where I am now, and I’m not fully healed, but I’m _damn well_ on my way there. I was an absolute shit-show when I met you, Uhura, and I’m truly sorry for that, but I don’t have time for anyone to pity me or treat me like I’m fragile.”

“You just woke up in a panic attack, kid,” McCoy muttered. He holstered the scanner, hazel eyes warming slightly to reassure his roommate and best friend. “But that could have been easily triggered by recent experiences. Getting yourself knocked out crawling around in Jeffries tubes while helping Scotty probably didn’t help any, either.” He straightened up. “But you’re good to go. You’re off-duty for forty-eight hours. This was a bad one and I know your physiology; you won’t be ready for duty before then. I’d swing by the Crèche and pick your pointy-eared brats up and snuggle up in your quarters.”

Jim nodded, sliding to the edge of the biobed. “Thanks, Bones. But we have the family dinner tonight.” He looked up at his Captain, meeting turbulent dark eyes. “Captain—”

“If you are allowed, I would meet you for our game of chess after the evening meal.”

They’d been meeting in some form every night since the Narada was destroyed. They were limping back home, Scotty having done something inexplicable to the engines and warp drive get them so close to the Narada. The nearest starbase was lightyears away, and the other 'fleet ships were making circuitous routes back from the Laurentian system. There was no word from Headquarters on whether or not they'd get an escort or a tow.

McCoy, Uhura, Amanda, and Sarek had joined them every night so far, with Old Spock only once accepting the promise of a quieter night. So many of the dinners were boisterous, debates often a common after-dinner entertainment. A set of unique bonds were starting to form around their group, like planets around a sun. A quiet, private chess match between the two commanding officers would often follow the departure of the crew and family members. 

“Bones?”

“Dinner, put the kids to bed, chess, and then _bed_. I mean it.”

“You’re the best.” Jim restrained himself from hugging the CMO. He smiled at his Captain, nodding once before sliding off of the biobed. “I wouldn’t miss beating your ass for a fifth night in a row for the world, Captain.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, inclining his head at an angle. “We shall see, Mr. Kirk. I will join you shortly.”

Sarek paced beside Jim on the way to what was now considered a dual nursery and school environment. Amanda and several of the adult Vulcans had started some courses for the children, older students assisting as tutors for the younger students. When the younger children settled down for meditation in a quiet, dark room (and no adult admitted to being grateful that some of the littlest settled for naps), the older children would receive at least one lesson from a rotating subject material. Some of the adults not directly involved with the Crèche found the emotionalism that the children often displayed to be distasteful.

The few mind-healers and psychologists onboard became rather “firm” and “forceful” in reminding the grieving Vulcans that children should not be held to the same standards as adults; to suppress grief and expression of trauma would only serve to facilitate severe mental illnesses later in life.

“Sir . . . thank you.”

Sarek glanced at the young Commander. He chose his words carefully. “I understand the Human need to thank an individual for assistance, as my wife often indulges in. However, I find myself wishing to express my own gratitude to you.”

“I . . . Um. Sir?”

“You called for my son to assist you in your moment of need. Allow me to enlighten you, Commander: my son was a child of two worlds, and now is clearly a man of both. He often struggled with his peers as a result of their status as fully-Vulcan against his own half-Vulcan heritage. They were unkind in a most illogical fashion that would frequently tip Spock’s oft-fragile emotional balance. You must understand: he feels as deeply as a Vulcan, with all the variety and control of his human half.”

“Like what we saw on the bridge when he went off on his older half just before we finalized the plan to get Nero away from Earth.”

“Precisely. He did not undergo any level of Kolinahr, as . . . _Selek_ had progressed through all but the final stage. Although, and I speak with the bias of a parent, Spock’s control over his emotions is often superior when compared to those of some of my own peers who also did not undertake Kolinahr.”

“Kolinahr. That’s the purge of emotions, right?”

“Indeed.”

“I know it’s my humanity showing, but I just can’t imagine living my life without emotions. Even though most of mine have been negative for a good chunk of my life.” Jim sighed, returning to the original subject of their conversation. “Ambassador, I trust Spock. He can be an asshole at times, but that’s partially misunderstanding each other’s cultural background. We’re working on it. Bones . . . he was the one to help me when we roomed together. He’s safe. He’s been an anchor that I’ve never had before. And . . . Spock just . . . I don’t know. He’s safe in a different way. I have trouble articulating what I feel.”

Sarek nodded, accepting this answer. He paused before the Crèche’s door, voice lowering. “It is illogical, and to be entirely truthful, it is almost blasphemous, but I am thankful for one thing out of the tragedy that we have all suffered through.”

“Ambassador?”

“Your friendship with Spock. He has needed one such as you in his life.” He opened the door into a dull roar of students finishing a recitation of one of Surak’s teachings.

Jim followed him in, smiling openly among a sea of carefully-neutral fosters and mentors. Amanda, who was the main teacher of Surak’s teachings (and wasn’t _that_ something that tangled some Elders’ robes!), dismissed the class with a nod. The older students lingered, while the younger students began roaming around, looking for their keepers. Jim watched as Arev and T’Raya made a bee-line towards him and Sarek, both sets of eyes suspiciously bloodshot. The green tinge would have been upsetting to humans unused to copper-based blood, but to Jim, it only served to worry about what could have bothered his sweet kids.

He crouched down to their level, eyebrows furrowing. “Hey, now. What’s wrong, kiddos?”

“We felt your pain, Sehlat-Jim,” T’Raya whimpered, little hands gripping one of his work-roughened ones. “Then you were . . . you were too _quiet_ and then you were _too loud_.”

Jim looked to Arev, who nodded mutely. He had been warned that even though he was human and thus psi-null, he was not immune to the formation of Vulcan bonds. He just hadn’t thought that he was going to be blessed with any, least of all with two of the precious few children. “I’m so sorry that it scared you. I . . . I know that you know I’m human; we don’t have as much control over our emotions.”

“You were very afraid of something,” Arev whispered.

Jim gathered his little Vulcans against his chest, feeling them burrow against his higher body-temperature. “I was afraid of something in my own mind. Just like when you wake up at night sometimes and feel scared. But it’s okay now.”

“Did someone help you like you help us?” T’Raya asked, her compassion clear on her face.

“Yes. Ambassador Sarek and Captain Spock helped me find my way out of that scary place.” He bit his lip and nuzzled at faintly-green chubby cheeks. “I’ve been seeing a human mind-healer for a long time for my mental hurts and pain. But maybe Vulcan mind-healers could help me better than human ones.”

He didn’t ask them not to be afraid when they felt his anxiety. He didn’t ask them not to worry. But he kept them close as he stood up, turning to see Amanda and Sarek exchange one of those finger-kisses before Sarek took their adopted infant, who still hadn’t been named due to an old tradition. Little ears were still folded against the baby’s head, not yet ready to be unfurled. It was adorable and something lurched in Jim's heart. He loved his Vulcan toddlers, but it was quickly becoming evident that he wanted a Vulcan baby, too. Someday. He wasn’t sure how, but something felt _right_ among the reserved culture. They were diametrically opposite to the chaos of his early life.

Though, honestly, he’d probably have to marry a Vulcan to adopt a newborn baby. Or get a uterus implant or have a surrogate. But that would at least be a decade away so that he could get assigned planetside. And he honestly didn’t know any Vulcan that would think about pairing his name with a monogamous relationship. He wasn't exactly known for being reticent and conservative with his fleeting affections and sexual exploits. Granted, most of the tales of his sexcapades were greatly exaggerated, but the fact remained that he was no blushing virgin. To compare against a species that valued monogamy to the point of arranging marriages in childhood, his track record thus far was less than stellar.

Three students fell into line beside the two humans and the Ambassador, all of the class radiating a juxtaposition of discomfort and hope. They were each being mentored by and were rooming with others in Command when they weren’t participating in classes, and the contact with humans was starting to show. Jim let himself make eye contact and smile with each one. “Everyone ready?”

Nods, some singular, some chin bobbing several times.

“Let’s go.” He led the way to the large captain’s quarters, meeting up with Bones and his Vulcan protégé Sovek along the way. The two were deep into the particulars of various burn treatments and how they differed between human and Vulcan physiology. Despite the xenophobic front that the good doctor often put up, he was quite fond of the almost-adult Vulcan who now took up space on a cot in his quarters. As soon as the VSA medic-in-training had shown up to the medbay on the day that Vulcan fell, asking to help, he had been handed a uniform that had been almost too big for him and pointed to the disinfectant bay to scrub up and get helping.

Christine Chapel had taken far too much pleasure in recruiting the brilliant teenager, giving him fitted gloves that shielded decently well against psi-contact. She paired him up with McCoy as soon as he was scrubbed in and ready. When Leonard had finally realized _who_ was helping him, he had thrown her a glare, but didn’t slow his pace. If the kid could keep up with him, then the kid could stay.

Uhura must have arrived with T’Lyra and Chekov some time before, since some of the food was already sitting on the deck-turned-buffet-table while the Russian kid continued cooking in the kitchenette. Pavel seemed to find comfort in the domestic duties, often bribing others to let him cook because it "felt like home," where he would be helping prepare large family meals.

Sarek settled the infant into a sling around his shoulders and went to help the young human while Amanda removed her outer robe and headscarf in the privacy of Spock’s quarters to help move furniture around with Kirk and McCoy. Sovek assisted T’Lyra with setting out utensils as Sulu and Scotty arrived with a few folding chairs, greeting their Vulcan protégés with smiles and nods of acknowledgement. Spock was the last to arrive, greeting his mother first, before nodding to the chorus of welcomes from his crew and the young Vulcans, and heading into the kitchen.

Jim wasn’t surprised when he was joined on the couch by the Captain, who had successfully stolen his adopted little sister from his father to give her a bottle. In the five minutes it took for the little one to suck down the sustenance, Spock had relaxed into the cushions, eyes half-closed in contentment. Jim caught Uhura watching Spock, gaze soft but otherwise unreadable.

“Are you faring better, Jim?”

Privacy in one’s own “home” gave Spock the freedom to drop titles. It was growing on his first officer. “Much, but . . . there’s been a complication.”

Dark eyes focused with sharp intensity upon his face. “Are you compromised?”

“I have been for _years_ , but that’s a conversation for a later date.” He tweaked two snub noses of the toddlers on his lap. “These two sweethearts picked up on my panic attack across the entire ship. I’m guessing that familial bonds are settling in, which I know disqualifies them from the adoption lists.”

“Do you regret this?” Spock asked quickly, unsure of what Jim was really saying.

“No,” Jim replied vehemently, cerulean eyes flashing. “Never in a million years. They’re comfortable with me, and find peace with me. But I’m . . . I really do need to request Vulcan assistance. How you helped me today did more good than I think you realize.”

“About _time_ that you finally gave in! I suggested a Betazoid or Vulcan healer _two years ago_ , Jim!” Bones barked. “But _nooo_ , don’t listen to the health professional. It takes two little pointy-eared toddlers to make you see reason.”

The cousins sat up straighter, proud that they have helped their caretaker with coming to a decision about his own health. He chuckled at their obvious emotions on the matter. “Well, you keep calling me an infant about medical crap, so _clearly_ , I have to be taking cues from toddlers in order to make decisions about my life. Means you get to call me a toddler, now, doesn’t it? Give me _some_ credit, willya? Let me at _least_ be a few steps ahead of my pocket-sized Vulcans!”

T’Raya looked affronted. “We are not pocket-sized, Sehlat-Jim! We are too large and will keep growing larger!”

“Your thoughts are strange to us, Jim. It would be illogical to attempt to create a pocket big enough for us to be carried around in.”

Uhura snorted a laugh at Jim’s playful pout. Spock didn’t seem that impressed with the banter as he laid a burp cloth over his shoulder and rubbed at his sister's little back. It was hardly longer than his hand, and he found himself freshly enthralled all over again. While it was logical that they all start out small, it was a very emotional thing to hold such living potential. Once burped and settled, he curled his little sister close against his own body, disliking how chilled her cheeks were. He surrendered the baby to his mother, who used the sling that his father had while they settled down for dinner. He was grateful that the humans could warm chilly Vulcan children with their slightly-higher body temperatures in the climate-controlled interior of the starship.

The Vulcan children initially had been shocked at how much conversation humans shared while eating. After a discussion following the second dinner, they had realized that it was simply human culture to feel more open in conversation over food or drinks. Since then, Vulcan commentary would occasionally crop up, and they became emboldened at how their opinions and questions were always given due thought. They knew that not all adult Vulcans were amenable to changes in culture happening so quickly after the loss of their home, but the young adults and children knew one thing: they had to adapt, or they would find themselves in an untenable position. The adults were harder to adapt to their new world order, making the flexibility of the children's minds their greatest assets.

So they chatted during dinner, passing dishes around and making sure that everyone had enough of a variety of nutrition according to their diets. The low babble of the room was interrupted by the door opening, possibly to admit a crewmember who needed a last-minute signature before Gamma shift. Such occurrences had become commonplace.

When Jim glanced up, however, Selek and an older Vulcan woman stood framed in the light.

All but the very youngest Vulcans stood at the Elders’ arrival, all conversation dropped. Jim quickly swallowed and stood as well, his blonde hair showing brightly beside Spock’s dark locks. It drew the woman’s attention as he straightened his gold tunic, still slightly grimy at the elbows and singed at the hems from his crawling around Engineering.

There was a beat of silence, awkward and unsure.

“Sehlat-Jim! Please have more broccoli?” T’Raya asked, having polished off her plate of veggies and bread. Her Standard vocabulary was growing, but she still spoke very much like a human toddler when she was excited, especially when food was involved.

He looked down and smiled at her. “In a moment, T’Raya. Be patient.”

“Okay.”

The woman spoke. “I am T’Pau.”

“I welcome you to my table, Elder. May I offer you my own seat?” Spock looked as if he wanted to crawl out of his skin, clearly intimidated by this woman.

Her gaze grew sharp, searching the young Captain’s gaze before ignoring him in favor of Sarek. “Your son speaks for this gathering, Sarek?”

“It is logical, as he is in command of this ship and these are his quarters. I am a guest in his home.”

“And the human who dares stand beside him?”

Spock’s fingers twitched, and Uhura stiffened. Jim smiled easily, showing that he took no offence. Sarek, however, must have found something unsavory in her words. “Elder T’Pau, may I remind you that we are here only on Starfleet’s charity until such a time that a colony may be founded. As such, Captain Spock and Commander James Kirk are our hosts; it is therefore an honor to be dining with them.”

T’Pau switched to Vulcan, her words scathing. _“Thee has spurned mine invitation for nightly meetings, Sarek. Our clan is greatly reduced and yet you wish to divide it further?”_

_“Elder T’Pau, if I may, it is logical that I and my husband dine with our son as we strengthen the immediate family bonds before extending outwards. We are adjusting to the absence of so many other bright minds. Our duties are not lightly taken, and our engagements are carefully weighed,”_ Amanda countered, holding the infant close to her chest. _“I honor thee, and I am asking thee for forgiveness towards my forthright nature. Thy honor remains intact.”_

Spock voiced his opinion in Standard, knowing that of the humans present, only Uhura could have followed the entire short conversation. Jim would have understood enough to get a general idea. “Elder T’Pau, Elder Selek, I honor thee and put forth the invitation once more if you would join my table for this evening’s repast. I have extended the invitation two nights before to no response. To have your presence with us this evening would be an honor.”

Jim felt a subtle touch to his leg. T’Raya wanted that broccoli. He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. She blinked and settled her hand back in her lap, nodding. She’d be patient. Looking back up at the Elders, he realized that he had garnered T’Pau’s attention with the subtle movement. Yeah. He could see how this woman had refused a seat in the Federation’s Council. He didn’t back down from her gaze, holding it as long as she held his own. Her eyes narrowed. He let himself smile, spreading his hands to indicate the slowly-cooling meal.

T’Pau finally took a step forward. Jim moved his plate over to between Arev’s and T’Raya’s, quickly scooping up another small serving of broccoli to T’Raya’s plate in reward for being so patient and quiet. He turned and walked into the kitchen area, washing his hands while Spock moved his own setting to between Uhura and his mother. Jim caught his eye behind T’Pau’s back and grinned, nodding. It was a strategic and bold move, reminding T’Pau that as much as Spock was Vulcan, he was also human. The Captain joined him in the kitchen to wash his hands as well. 

Pulling together two clean place settings, they worked in easy tandem to place the food on each plate, Jim pausing Spock from carrying the plates over to deftly garnish them without using his hands, aware that the Elders were watching the food preparation. Vulcans did not handle their food with bare skin, and the humans had easily adjusted to that aspect of family dinners. Gloves and unique serving utensils were a staple in the kitchenette. He grinned at the questioning look at how artfully and swiftly Jim had made the dishes into something gourmet despite the plain fare. “I had to get through my first college _somehow_. I worked as a gourmet sous chef for the first two years, and a bartender the second two years.”

“I assume it had to do with a raise in pay?”

“Naw. Long story best told over a chess match.”

“I will hold you to that, Commander.”

The new title still made Jim puff his chest in happiness as he picked up Arev and took his almost-son’s seat, placing the little Vulcan on his lap to finish eating. The toddler patted his arm in thanks, continuing to shovel cut-up zucchini lasagna into his mouth. The two Elders took their seats amid the silence, the younger Vulcans following suit. Bones, Jim, and Scotty shared a look before the engineer cleared his throat. “Well now, I heard ye came ta a wee bit o’ a mishap in my Jeffries tubes, Mr. Kirk.”

Swallowing his bite of whatever it was that Uhura had served him, he grinned ruefully. “Yeah. That section needs a lot of shoring work and reinforcement after the strain we put on the sweet girl. Thankfully, there isn’t any electricity grounding to it, otherwise I’d probably still be warming one of Bones’ biobeds.”

“Should still be there _anyway_ for observation, Jim. But I know you better than that by now, and _especially_ with your two tagalongs needing you.” Leonard speared another piece of chicken. “Besides, it’s psychological damage that worried me the most.”

Jim lowered his fork, his voice pleading. “Bones.”

“I know, I know. Later. Besides. I still haven’t gotten our Captain here back for a post-mission checkup.”

“Oh, is he actually worse than I am? Truly?”

“Gentlemen—”

“Dare I say ‘exceedingly?’ He’s avoided the medbay entirely for the last two days, and I was about to _finally_ get his exam done when you started to come around.”

“Wow. I mean, even _I_ come by to harass you. Captain must be shirking his traditional duties of keeping senior officers in a perpetual state of annoyance towards him.”

“Doctor, Commander, I must—”

“Jim, you _have_ to talk some sense to the Captain. Help him see things _my_ way?”

“Well, you know that I’m terrible at logical arguments, but I’ll give it a try.”

“Thattaboy, Jimbo. Knew I could count on you.”

Spock’s face was blank in the curious way that meant that they were both fucked. Uhura and Amanda were turned away from him, each trying and failing to hide their smiles at him being entirely out-maneuvered by the only two other officers upon the ship that could overrule him when their votes were counted together.

Jim grinned at Spock as he poured more water for T’Raya. “Captain, if you neglect your health, you won’t be able to perform your duties to the best of your ability. I can go on, but we have company.”

One eyebrow popped up.

Jim kept grinning.

Pavel coughed, trying to hide his laugh at the show of will between the senior-ranking officers. Hikaru did his solid best not to laugh, but couldn’t resist a grin at how Jim upped his grin into the “I’m cute and you can’t say no in front of your parents and the Elders” range.

The Vulcan teenagers and young adults were almost staring in shock, eyes darting back and forth between the three men having a showdown.

Selek coughed and turned his head away from T’Pau, unable in the least to hide his grin, as it spread across his wrinkled face.

Leonard swatted the table with his fingertips, then pointed to the old Vulcan. “Goddamnit, man, even the _old guy_ is on our side! You have an appointment tomorrow, and if you _dare_ skip it again, I’ll put you on leave for forty-eight!”

Spock straightened his spine, outright _glared_ at his counterpart, and speared a piece of his dinner, leaving no room in the connotation that he would love to score sharp words against the Elder. “Schedule it and I will report at the appointed time, Doctor.”

“You betcha. Thanks Jim, Selek.” He turned to his protégé, engaging him in a detailed conversation regarding cell regeneration rates and which worked best for Vulcans versus other known species in the Federation.

T'Pau looked scandalized.

Jim counted the dinner as a perfect success, even if he knew that they'd be paying for it later.


	3. Chapter 3

Uhura sat beside Spock on his couch. Kirk was settling his toddlers for the night, but would return after a brief meditation with them. Realistically, it was hard for all three to sit still for more than a few minutes, but Jim had found a strategy after the first night. 

He simply said that _they_ had to teach _him_ how to meditate. And, like the little scholars that they were, they took off running with the challenge. They were now competing over who could sit without fidgeting the longest, and who could keep their breathing pattern the steadiest. The winner got a reward the next day, choosing breakfast or what their snacks would be for school. Since success was pretty equal between the three of them for the moment, there wasn't any resentment out of the reward system. Jim had reported that over three days, they had gone from four minutes without fidgeting to sixteen minutes, with steady breathing a few minutes behind that time. (And when Jim won, he often chose to read to his toddlers, who were very happy to listen to his dramatic renditions of classic human myths, legends, and folk tales.) 

Spock, so used to the ways of his own very Vulcan upbringing, was surprised at Jim's success. It was logical in the way that humans processed information, rather than the strict logical and rationale from a Vulcan standpoint. Most Vulcan parents would have told them that control of their bodies was the first step to control of their emotions. It was how Sarek raised him, and how he had thought to raise his own children one day, whether they be biological or adopted. But to see a human’s standpoint, understanding the need for meditation in Vulcan life and taking a completely untraditional approach to meet the same end result . . . it was heartening. And it made Spock wonder even further about his place in the universe, what his role should be. 

"Penny for your thoughts, Spock." 

His eyebrow twitched at the human saying, but didn't comment upon it, answering the silent question instead. "Since before you enrolled in Starfleet, you have been my closest friend, Nyota. And we both know that our previous romantic involvement often shadows our platonic relationship. I . . . am unsure of my path. Vulcan is gone. My species is endangered. I should assist in the rebuilding and repopulation efforts." 

"So you are looking to leave Starfleet to become a stud stallion? Is that what you really _want_ , Spock?" 

He shook his head, gaze distant. "But I feel it is my duty." 

"Your _duty_ is to your _ship_ , your _crew_. How would you serve your people on a colony? Would you be satisfied with your feet on the dirt? Building and farming? Not even _teaching_? Or would you teach, once another school was built?" 

"I do not know." 

Nyota blinked slowly. "Spock, you would be wasted on a colony. I'm going to be Vulcan-direct here," and the phrase stirred Spock's affection towards Nyota. "You are not fully Vulcan. You are a hybrid. Are you even fertile?" 

Spock's gaze dropped. "I have never been so confident as to find out. It is a shortcoming of mine, that I am . . . I feel trepidation towards what answer may be given to me. My mother was often very sick during her pregnancy with me, and . . . suffered through several miscarriages both before and after my birth." 

Nyota winced in sympathy, but Spock powered on. 

"It is good to see her with the infant, and through our familial bond, I can sense how, despite our great loss, my adopted sister is healing places in my mother's heart that neither my nor my father's presence could even approach." He sighed, rubbing at his face in a very human gesture that he had picked up in his time on Earth. 

A set of feet padded into the room without knocking. 

His gaze snapped up to Kirk, who was frozen, hesitating at the door between the First Officer's quarters and the Captain's quarters, connected together through the bathing and cleansing facilities. One could look directly through to the sectioned-off bedroom/private relaxation area from this position. He took note of how close Uhura was sitting beside Spock, and shifted backwards, remembering clearly having a dorm door smacking into his face after Uhura walked in on him and Gaila. "I . . . can come back?" 

Spock shook his head. "No, your unorthodox methods and intuition would be appreciated at this point." 

"Yeah, but, you two are pretty snuggly, and I'm totally not gonna intrude on that. Not unless I've got an invitation, an agreement, and at least two weeks of talks before we even _get_ to the bedroom." 

"Oh my God, Kirk." Uhura groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

"Look, I'm honest about my needs. I'm no virgin, and I've been the 'other guy' and I've been invited into sexual situations where nothing was communicated properly. So . . . in effort to keep myself out of trouble, I'd much rather be blunt." 

"We're not dating. We haven't dated since I enrolled in Starfleet and he was graduating to go directly into a teaching position. You're not seeing a romantic relationship here, and I've no sexual desire for Spock. Not anymore." 

"You two _kissed_." 

"We were both emotionally compromised." 

Spock sighed, desperately trying to control his human emotions and reactions. "Please." 

They fell silent, and Kirk waited at the door. 

"Please come sit, Jim. I need your intuition, as my logic seems to fail in this situation." He paused, then amended, "Or, more accurately, my Vulcan logic and sensibilities are at odds with my human desires." 

Kirk watched him for a half-minute before asking, "Are we talking about relationships? Or a non-romantic situation?" 

"The latter. I wish to help my people rebuild, which is the logical thing to do. And yet I desire to remain in Starfleet." 

Jim licked his lips, lost in thought. Absently, he crossed the room, climbed onto the bed, and sat cross-legged to face the pair on the couch. "And you think that you can't do both at the same time?" 

"Affirmative." 

Resting elbows upon his bent knees, Jim let his head fall into cupped hands, staring at the fibers of the bedspread. He was silent for several long minutes, long enough that Uhura stood and walked to the kitchenette. Spock was patient; he had the feeling that Jim's response would bring him the clarity he so desperately needed. He didn't look up. "What do you feel your responsibilities are to the Vulcan people?" 

"Assisting in repopulation and rebuilding the education system." 

"Huh." He went silent again, blue eyes distant. Uhura returned with a tray, setting it down on a side-table and handing the first drink to Kirk, who took a sip absently, coughing at the sudden bloom of heat. "Holy _fuck_ , woman! What is this?" 

"Hot toddy. I refuse to believe that you've never had one. I don't feel like being entirely sober for this conversation and I'm not drinking alone." 

"Vulcans don't get drunk on Terran alcohol," Jim griped, taking another sip and enjoying the play of lemon, honey, whiskey, and tea over his palette. "And no, I've never had one. Never been quite _that_ refined." 

She grinned and held a mug of hot chocolate to the Captain, a thick layer of marshmallows shielding the dark liquid from view. "Good thing that I know what Vulcans _do_ get drunk on. So. What do you have spinning through your head, Commander?" 

Jim licked his lips, the whiskey still a familiar burn at the back of his throat. "The first and easiest way to keep both duties together? Give his sperm samples or DNA over to a bio-bank specifically for repopulation efforts, stay on with Starfleet in whatever capacity they'll have him." 

"And if I wanted to remain in contact with my biological offspring?" 

"Bring them onto the ship for regular visitation. See about making frequent stops by whatever colonies we make for your people." 

"And to be actively involved in their upbringing?" 

Jim frowned. "Well, that brings us to if you want to be a planetside Starfleet commander or stay on a starship." He ducked his head to look up into molten chocolate depths. "Spock, we're all in this together. Whatever you choose will _not_ be the wrong answer. Hell, I . . . I want to be up among the stars, but . . . will it be safe for Arev and T'Raya? I don't even know if I'm going to be the parent that they'll need. I'm barely held together myself on some days, and now with two touch-telepathic toddlers that have developed a family bond with me?" Jim dropped his eyes and bit his bottom lip, physically stopping himself from continuing to speak. He drew in a deep breath as he closed his eyes, and released it when he opened them, the familiar motions grounding him again. "Sorry. This is about you right now. Not me. Didn't mean to start to panic on you." 

But Spock was still watching him silently. "You . . . feel unworthy of their trust in you." 

"That's one way to put it." 

"But you want to do right by them." 

"Every step of the way." 

"You and I understand one another, James Kirk. I feel similarly about the rest of my people, but I am unsure if I am worthy of their regard." 

Uhura snorted. "Before you go into this, start drinking. I'm not listening to you rant about this while you're dry sober. Did that once, and I'm not living through that again." 

Grimacing, Spock took a healthy swig of the hot chocolate, carefully swiping away the frothy marshmallow that gathered on his upper lip with his tongue. He didn't miss Jim's eyes dropping to watch the movement, or the blushing glance away. Warmth spread from his stomach, the chocolate smoothly beginning to relax him. "I have been a unique brand of pariah since my early childhood. Half-breed. Unwanted companion by full Vulcan children. And yet my family is powerful, an old clan with many significant contributions to the Vulcan race. I never fit in." 

Jim sighed. "Yeah. I understand that." 

"How so?" 

"George Kirk saved several hundred lives, died a Starfleet martyr. The public expected his sons to be humble and heroic. We were the sad children standing up on the stage at the memorials for ten years." 

"I remember that," Uhura murmured. "Always wondered what became of you until that night at the bar." 

"Yeah, well . . . Sam ran away; I became a petty criminal with a history of being drunk in public and causing brawls. You saw the tail end of that phase in my life. Being the smartest kids in the class, with a piss-poor abusive step-father that drank away Starfleet's grief pay and beat us?" Jim sucked on his teeth, looking down into the cup. "I don't know how to be a good father. I never _had_ a good father. All I know is what I don't want to be." He drew in a breath. "So yeah, Spock . . . I think we understand each other about not knowing how to fit in." 

"So how do we remedy this situation?" Spock murmured. "How can I continue to help my people while remaining in Starfleet?" 

"Well, you have the advantage of a doppelganger hanging around," Jim chuckled. He blinked, spine straightening as his mind made connections that he hadn't even realized were being made. "Wait. Think about what we're _already_ doing! We've got professionals and accomplished officers in their fields of study mentoring VSA students and almost-graduates. Why not petition Starfleet to allow of the remaining vessels to become a practical-application of skills that are needed in space for VSA students? And at the same time, why not see about refitting one of the older ships to include family housing for VSA professors and families? I've overhead several Vulcans who didn't want to settle upon a colony just yet, but wanted to remain in a community that has a _significant_ Vulcan influence. That'll appease both the Elders, with their need for cultural purity, _and_ your desire to help rebuild, _and_ one keeping new families together as they continue to rebuild their bonds, _and_ you're still in Starfleet." 

Spock sat very still as he allowed this potential plan to sift through his mind. The older Vulcan "children" were indeed becoming indispensable to many of their mentors here on the Enterprise. He let himself sink into the couch a little more, sipping absently at the hot chocolate. It dulled the razor edge of cold logic, giving way to human bolts of intuition. 

And he could see Kirk's plan not only working, but possibly _thriving_ , with the right leadership and personnel. 

Uhura shook her head with a smile. "You really don't believe in no-win situations." 

"Fuck no. Spock?" 

"It could work. But we would have to gain support of the remaining Counsel." The half-Vulcan raised his gaze to meet Kirk's. 

"Isn't your dad on that?" 

"He is. I will speak with him in the morning; he will know the best way to approach his peers." 

Jim smiled. "So you really think it'll work? You're not just going along with me?" 

"It's a worthy concept, and one that very well could become a media focus to assist relations with Vulcans and reunification of the Federation." 

"So that just leaves you with the idea of starting your own family." 

Uhura threw back the last of her hot toddy and stood. "I'm so not staying for that one. Good luck, boys. Jim, if I don't see you in the morning, I know it's because Spock's murdered you." 

"What? Wait, _what_? Why?" 

"Because he went all grumpy feral Vulcan on me when we discussed this a few years ago. Night!" 

Jim turned his head slowly to look at his Captain. "Please don't kill me. I'm too damn pretty." 

"Pretty will only get you so far, Kirk!" Uhura called over her shoulder before she left the captain's quarters. 

Spock took a thoughtful sip of his drink, enjoying the light buzz humming along his fingertips. "I was drunk for that conversation, too. I regret that argument." 

"Okay, so talk to me.” Jim swirled the last of his hot toddy around in his mug. “What has you so defensive about the possibility of making babies?” 

“As of right now, I do not know for certain if I am fertile or not. Furthermore, the mixture of human and Vulcan genes causes many health concerns for a mother of either race. I would not wish upon any female the pain that my mother endured.” 

As Spock looked down into his drink, it struck Kirk that the dark brown eyes matched the dark chocolate hot cocoa within a shade. He wasn’t drunk, couldn’t afford to be drunk, but it loosened his tongue. “Spock, your mother is one of the strongest people I could have ever met. And she clearly passed that trait along to _you_.” 

“But I cannot ensure that all females will be as strong as my mother.” 

“Fair point. So why were you arguing with Uhura about this?” 

“She and I were young when we sought each other’s romantic attentions. My betrothal had been broken by the other party, thus I was searching for another to court when I arrived on Earth. We were classmates for two years and five months, and were romantically inclined for the final eight months of our time in the Academy.” Spock took another long drink, wanting to feel the numbing freedom from his own logic and ordered thinking for once. “She wanted to wait until after graduation, but wished to bond with me and follow _your_ mother’s influence of raising children upon an exploration vessel.” 

“Well, history books tell us why that wasn’t Mom’s best decision.” 

“Indeed. It was a point that I brought up with Nyota, along with my other concerns. She felt that I was the illogical one. It was . . . Jim. I do not wish to continue this retelling of an old experience.” 

Pressing his lips together, Jim reached over to pat Spock’s shoulder once and let his hand fall. “I get it, buddy. So. What about adoption?” 

“I could not be a single parent as Captain; there are too many responsibilities and I fear that one would upset the other.” Raising an eyebrow, he let himself look towards their shared bathroom. “I am truly astounded that you are able to diligently balance your duties and your family.” 

“And you don’t have anyone that you would be willing to co-parent with?” Jim let himself touch the soft places in his head where his bonds with his children resided, finding himself soothed by their sleeping minds. He smiled and drew back, not wanting to disturb their rest. 

The silence answering his question stretched too long. He turned back to Spock, shocked to see the gentle expression regarding him. “Spock?” 

A soft sigh escaped the Vulcan, like the last line of defense before an overwhelming defeat. “You. I would co-parent with and lose myself to the siren’s song of your mind.” He downed the last of his hot cocoa. “What eventually ended the relationship Nyota and I shared was my discovery that I was attracted to males as equally as females, and that shook her confidence in me. As we matured, we found ourselves less compatible as potential mates, and far more compatible as friends.” 

Jim was stunned. “Wait. Back up. Me? Why would you want me? Spock, I’m _broken_. I’m . . . I’m not an easy person to commit to. I have too many flaws.” 

“You are clearly in error and your self-assessment is outrageously incorrect.” The mug was set aside, the hand reaching up to rub under perfect bangs. “I have been in your mind; you are much more whole than what you believe yourself to be. You believe yourself undesirable, and yet you show a wealth of commitment to your Vulcan children, who are _not_ like you, who will _never_ be human or show human emotions. Furthermore, you do not _expect_ them to be human.” 

“Okay, so you have me there. I can commit to someone. But I’ve used sex as a coping mechanism for too long. I’ve never had a successful long term relationship, Spock.” 

“I understand your reasoning, Jim.” 

“I’m still gonna say it out loud. I was raped on Tarsus. Several times over. Afterwards, I used sex to try to claim back my body, my reactions. I know that Vulcans are strictly monogamous—” 

A long finger rested against Jim’s plush lips. He could feel the press of Spock’s own poorly-shielded emotions against his own, each a perfect counterpoint. “Do you fear you could not commit to one person for the remainder of your life?” 

“That’s not it,” Jim whispered, pulling back only a quarter inch to speak. His breath against the pad of the index finger made Spock shiver and drop his hand. 

“Then what is it, Jim?” 

“Wouldn’t you care that I’ve had sex with a lot of people?” 

“Do you care that I’ve had sex with Nyota and two others?” 

“No. I didn’t really even know you beyond you being a xenolinguistics and computer engineering professor when I arrived in the Academy. It wouldn’t be fair to hold previous relationships against you.” 

“Then why should I . . . why should I care about the others you _willingly_ shared pleasure with? It is both illogical and detrimental to stifle one’s sexual drive. Would you be unable to commit solely to me, were we to begin a romantic liaison?” 

Jim couldn’t tear his gaze away from Spock’s. “Never. I’ve never cheated on anyone. I couldn’t hurt someone like that. I could never lead anyone on, either.” 

Spock’s expression abruptly closed off. “You . . . you are not attracted to me?” 

“Oh, that’s so _not_ what I’m saying!” Jim reached out and grabbed Spock’s hand, heedless of the Vulcan cultural taboo of touching hands. “Please, no, hear me out. I’m so _entirely_ attracted to you that it’s difficult to _breathe_ sometimes. But . . . we don’t know each other that well yet. I don’t want to break your heart if we don’t work out beyond being really good together in crisis situations. I want to _know_ that we’re compatible, not just trial-and-error between emergencies. I want to know that we are friends as well as lovers.” 

“We could meld again . . . I could show you what I felt!” 

Jim realized then that while he was only lightly buzzed, his Captain was actually verging on _trashed _.__

Fuck Uhura. She _knew_ this would happen.

“We can meld when you’re _sober_ , Spock.” Jim finished off his drink and grabbed Spock’s mug. “I’m putting these in the kitchen, and then I’m putting you to bed. You’re drunk.”

“I . . . I’m not . . .”

“You’re using contractions. You’re drunk, Spock.”

And then Spock _pouted_. 

That was unfair.

Jim turned and put the dishes in the refresher, dimming the lights in the common area before returning to the bedroom. Spock was still pouting, staring at the floor. He was a cute drunk. “Hey. None of that.”

“You don’t like me like I like you.”

“Aw, that’s not true.”

“You won’t meld with me. I liked your mind.”

“I can tell, and I’d love to feel your mind again soon. But I like a sober, willing partner. This isn’t a no to melding for all eternity, it’s just a no for tonight.”

“What if I had given you a yes before I started drinking?”

“Well, we’ll just have to talk about that tomorrow morning, now won’t we?” He gripped Spock’s forearms with the intent of pulling him to his feet.

Spock slid his arms back, letting his palms slide against Jim’s until his fingertips rested against the pulse in his wrist. He noticed how the human tipped his head back slightly, eyes losing focus as the waves of affection and lust swept along his skin from the Vulcan. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

Jim sighed, screwing his eyes shut to refocus himself. “I can’t. I’m sorry. The kids wake up in three hours with nightmares and need me to help them remember that they’re safe.”

“Then I can go with you. I’ll come and stay with you.”

“Spock—”

“Please, Jim?”

Damn that pout. “Get your sleeping robes.”

Though slightly less graceful than normal, Spock was still steady on his feet. Looks like it would take more than one cup of cocoa to knock the man completely for a loop. With robes over one arm, Spock made his way back to Jim before nodding smartly, like he had done a good thing. Jim smiled and sighed. “Come on, then.”

It didn’t take long to stop Spock in the bathroom so that he could complete his nightly routine, leaving the door open while he pulled his command gold shirt off over his head. He had set up the corner of his common room for meditation, opposite to the door to the hallway and almost beside the bedroom door. A small rack of Vulcan robes in somber colors took up the space between the door and the meditation pillows, with little boots neatly cleaned and paired on either end of the robes. Jim smiled at the reminders of what his life was turning into. His common area was smaller than Spock’s, but he also didn’t have much in the way of personal effects to clutter the area.

He used the inside of his gold shirt to wipe his face off, stepping towards his bedroom and standing at the door. Propping a hip against the frame, he smiled at the two small forms taking up a makeshift pallet on the far wall, the lights low enough not to bother their slumber, but high enough to be able to see both dark heads. They were separated from the door by Jim’s full-sized bed, which was just enough bed-space for Jim to cuddle the kids one to either side, one arm around each. He had a couch in the common room, which could be pulled out into another bed, which he _should_ be setting up right now, but he just couldn’t tear his eyes away from the peacefully sleeping Vulcans.

_His_ Vulcans.

Jim smiled, letting himself sigh and sag against the doorway. He heard a rustle of fabric just before two hands rested upon his shoulders, kneading and smoothing away the tension that built over the course of the day, exacerbated by the panic attack in the medbay. He really shouldn’t be letting Spock do this when he was drunk. He didn’t want his Captain to regret his actions in the morning. “Hey. I have to set up your bed.”

Something was rubbing against the back of his head, and it took a moment to realize that it was _Spock’s face_. “Spock.”

“But that bed is big enough . . .”

“That’s my bed, though. And I don’t want you to wake up with the kids in a few hours.”

“I like your children. They’re sweet. Not like my peers.”

Well, if _that_ wasn’t a Pandora’s box he wasn’t willing to touch until later. “I know how sweet they are. But they’re _really_ upset after the nightmares. I don’t want you to worry about being emotionally compromised.”

“Don’t care. I want to sleep to your heartbeat.”

Oh. Oh not fair at _all_.

Jim drew in a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Just _remember_ , Spock, when you wake up groggy in the morning, that you asked to stay over in _my bed_ with _me_.”

“I always remember everything when I’m drunk. Eidetic memory. It’s annoying. Might be fuzzy. Won’t regret.” Heavy arms slipped over Jim’s shoulders, and a slightly-blushing face pressed warmly to Kirk’s own cool one. “Want you. Want your mind.”

“We’ll talk about that when you’re sober, okay? Let’s get you into bed, and then I’m going to get ready to join you.”

“Mm.”

As soon as he could, Jim grabbed a tank top and shorts and closed the bathroom door after himself. Pulling his communicator out, he hissed, “Get me Uhura.”

Within seconds, her too-cheery voice asked, “How drunk is he, Kirk?”

“I fucking hate you right now.”

“Oh, he’s progressed to the touchy-feely stage? Good! Where is he.”

“Currently, probably hogging my _entire bed_. I hope the kids squall extra hard to wake him out of a dead sleep.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Jim groaned. “You’re right.”

“So. Did he profess his love to you yet?”

“Attraction, yes. Desire to co-parent with me, also yes. Did you know any of this?”

She razzed at the communicator, and Jim sighed. Her voice was still cheery. “What do you think most of our arguments are about? He’s been watching you for almost a year, pining away at the fact that the blonde cadet who could wink and get anyone’s attention probably wouldn’t even _glance_ his way. I’ve been trying to tell him that he’s wrong. He’s stubborn.”

“ _That’s_ not awkward.” He put the communicator on the edge of the sink. “Look, Uhura, I just need to know how drunk you got him.”

“Well . . .”

“Oh my god.” Kirk began stripping out of the regulation blacks.

“Yeah. So. That had chocolate liqueur in it. And a bit of Kahlua. And natural cocoa shavings.”

“Oh my _god_ , Uhura.”

“And did you know that refined sugar heightens the effect of cocoa?”

“So he’s smashed.” He pulled up the sleeping pants, realizing that he had dropped his tank top somewhere on the way to the bathroom.

“Yep! You’re welcome.”

“How much will he hate you in the morning for this?”

“He knew _exactly_ how much cocoa I was using after that first sip. And if he finished it? He knew that he wanted to just _feel_ , rather than to _rationalize_. He’s a good damn man, Kirk. Talk with him in the morning and don’t hold it against him. Uhura out.”

Huffing a sigh, Jim brushed his teeth, gathered his things, and walked back to his bedroom, looking for his shirt along the way. Nothing. He put his shoes down by the closet and the dirty clothes in the chute. Turning, he padded softly towards Arev and T’Raya, bending to kiss each precious forehead. Each little one sighed and seemed to settle deeper into sleep. That might stave off the nightmares for an hour longer. Jim sat on the edge of his bed, hands resting at his sides, simply watching the soft rise and fall of little chests.

A brush, barely a touch of a hand against his fingers, and Jim turned with a smile. “You’re still up? I thought you’d be passed out by now.”

Spock shook his head, cheeks still flushed dark. Hesitantly, he curled a finger around Jim’s pinky and tugged. The sensations and emotions of dizzy exhaustion swam through Jim’s mind before he sighed again. “Did you steal my shirt?”

The blush deepened, and Spock looked away.

Jim smiled, reaching up to pull down the sheets. “Next time . . . _ask_.” Sliding into bed, he half-turned towards Spock. “Spock . . . have you been sleeping alone since Vulcan . . . ?”

“Yes.”

And it explained so much about his need to disconnect with his rationality. Many Vulcans were sharing their pain, suffering together through grief. He knew that even the old Spock was sleeping beside someone. And here was the Captain, unable to lean on his parents, as he was too old to sleep with his head on their pillows. He couldn’t rest with his subordinates. He didn’t like McCoy enough to ask for his help. And none of the Vulcans aboard gave signals that they were willing to grieve with him, even his counterpart.

So Jim shuffled himself a little higher on the bed, grabbed the far sleeve of Spock’s sleeping robe and pulled the drunk and surprised half-Vulcan over, onto his chest. He roughly tugged the blankets back around them, keeping one arm around the tense shoulders. When he settled back, Spock went to raise his head from Jim’s chest.

Jim rested his palm along Spock’s jaw, smoothing up over his cheek and gently pressing him back down. “Shush. Stay. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“I . . . I hear your heart.”

And Jim smiled, stroking his left hand through silky black hair, his right hand crossing over Spock’s back to rest over the back of Spock’s right ribs. “And I feel yours. Rest now. The kids will be up in a few hours and we’ll have to settle them. Rest, Spock. I’ve got ya.”

Dark lashes drifted shut, tension leaking out from Spock’s frame until, with a shuddering sigh, he surrendered to sleep. Jim wasn’t far behind him.

~*~

_Click._

Jim opened one eye. He couldn’t lift his arms. He had one wrapped around a full-sized Vulcan. One around and half-under Arev. And T’Raya was spread-eagled over his chest. “You’d best be glad that I’m not likely to move this early on my day off.” 

Uhura grinned and took another picture. “I’m sending these to your Mom.” 

“How do you know my mom?” 

“Spent some time talking with her and Amanda last night.” She put fists on hips, grinning openly, continuing to speak in a low voice. “Her ship came to escort us in. We’ve just passed Neptune’s orbit. Smile?” 

So Jim did, curling his arms tighter around his Vulcans.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a longer chapter this time, to make up for not posting it when I thought that I was going to be able to get it edited and online!

Spock woke to the sensation of a small weight being transferred closer to his body, Jim’s soothing murmur pushing the child back into a deep slumber. Blearily, he opened one eye, trying to focus upon his First Officer. The blond man smiled, tucking ebony hair behind one pointed ear. “Go back to sleep, Spock.”

“Last night . . .”

“Remember all of it like you claimed you would?”

“Affirmative.”

“Good. We can have this conversation later. Go back to sleep.” Jim tugged the blanket higher over the Vulcan’s shoulder, tucking him in. Spock pulled T’Raya closer to his chest, letting his eyes drift shut again. “Arev wants to go do some running at the gym. We’ll be back in an hour or so, and I’ll get breakfast started. Bones put you on twenty-four hours of medical leave to rest. I’ll be covering Beta shift for you. Sulu is covering Alpha right now. Gamma will be covered by Scotty, if we can pry him out of engineering. Pike remains stable and in an induced coma.” A warm hand brushed his forehead, soothing him back into his exhausted slumber. Somehow, Jim knew that an update on the basic ship business would soothe him.

Spock drifted, feeling T’Raya shift at times in her sleep, always settling down shortly after, once she realized that she still had a warm body and familiar mind close to her own.

It wasn’t until he smelled breakfast and heard the sing-song of his mother’s voice that he started to truly wake up. Sarek’s voice rumbled, Jim’s laughed as he no doubt caught on to the unique Vulcan humor. T’Raya blinked herself awake, then reached up and rested her hand on Spock’s face. He allowed the surface meld, holding the chubby little hand against his stubbly jaw, taking as much comfort from the innocent touch as much as she was taking comfort from him. Her little dark eyes smiled, and she nuzzled against his chest, much as Spock had done with his own father when he was a toddler.

Jim poked his head into the room, face relaxed. "Hey, sleepyheads. Good news and an update. We're passing Mars pretty slowly, so we’ll be back in the shipyards by mid-morning tomorrow. The _Potemkin_ is towing us in. Sulu is Acting Captain, the bridge is currently staffed by Beta Crew. We have some of their engineers assisting us, including my mother." He smiled at the way that T'Raya continued to keep her hand on Spock's face. Knowing that any of his jokes about replacing him in her life could cause her pain, Kirk simply walked over and stroked her forehead, careful of psi-points. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes. Is it illogical to enjoy sleeping more?"

"No, sweetpea. It's not illogical to truly enjoy anything. Though, I think it would be illogical to enjoy anything to an _extreme_ , to the exclusion of a healthy balance. So, that would be like sleeping when you know you should be awake or studying. But an occasional sleep in? Not illogical to enjoy it." Jim's smile gentled even further. "Besides. I think you helped Captain Spock sleep a little better, too."

"Captain has been too long alone."

"I believe you're correct. How should we suggest anything fix that?"

Spock huffed lightly. "You could begin by addressing me directly."

"We could, but that's no fun. T'Raya? Do you know how we can fix this?"

"He _must_ sleep close to someone again. It will help his mind. And he is warm for a Vulcan."

"I agree. But that is also his choice for the location and the company."

"It would be illogical to travel farther than your own suite, Sehlat-Jim."

"But to force his decision would be going against his free will, his choice."

Spock could _feel_ T'Raya's mind running through this new information before realizing that it would be something that she would have to meditate upon. She nodded, pulling her hand away from Spock's face. "Your argument is sound; I will meditate upon this today."

"Explain to me what you will be meditating upon," Jim urged gently, walking over and reaching his hands out to catch T'Raya as she leaped toward him. He curled her close, kissing her forehead, showing her affection and affirmation while he questioned her, encouraging her critical thinking skills.

She frowned, little eyebrows drawing together before smoothing out. "Free will and how it interacts with interpersonal relationships."

"That's a big concept. Spock, how can she break that into manageable portions?"

Sitting up slowly, he said, "I would begin by considering this morning's interactions and conversations, T'Raya, and how you might process the situation had you been in my position."

She nodded, reaching arms back out for Spock. He stood, taking her from a smiling Jim, whose hands carefully did not touch his own. Once she was settled, Spock reached out and stroked two fingers along Jim's cheek. He did not regret the night before, and was grateful that Nyota had finally tipped his hand. And behind careful shields from the orphaned little girl, he admitted to himself that Jim’s companionship, whether platonic or romantic, would go a long way to helping regain his mental and emotional balance.

~*~

Winona Kirk wiped her hands off on a rag as she strode down the corridors. She hadn’t had a chance to do more than see her son in regulation blacks as he handled signing off on various requests and issuing commands along with the _Enterprise’s_ CMO and acting Chief Engineer. The lack of one of Starfleet’s infamous primary-color shirts meant that he was officially off-shift, but was still putting hours in. They had clasped forearms, kissed cheeks, and she swatted the back of his shoulder firmly before nodding to a shocked Engineer, following him down into the ship’s bowels to stabilize the power flow to the impulse engines.

She almost stumbled into the CMO, McCoy, as she turned down the commanding officers’ quarters. He paused, his conversation with one of the Vulcan youths, nodding to her. “Ma’am, it’s good to see you.”

“Len, it’s a delight to see you as well. You’ve been keeping my son outta trouble?”

“Jim? Ha! Although, I think that there’s two little ones who might have a better chance at it than _I_ ever did.” He thumbed at his solemn shadow. “This one is Sovek; he’s going to be interning with me to learn human medicine in Starfleet. Sovek, this is Commander Winona Kirk, Commander Kirk’s mother.”

Sovek held up the ta’al, already-deep voice soft and sober. “Live long and prosper, Commander.”

She returned the greeting, “Peace and long life. I offer you my name; it will be easier to distinguish myself from my son.” Looking to McCoy, she asked, “Is my boy okay?”

“Let’s get you somewhere private and we can chat about it. I know that you have been listed to have carte blanche permission to see Jim’s records. But since you’re family, you’re coming to the family dinner that Jim and Spock have been keepin’ every night once they realized it was a good copin’ mechanism for the rest of us.” He punched in his code for the Captain’s quarters, walking in without even asking permission.

Winona, having interned and worked with various Vulcan engineering teams, expected a calm environment.

Instead, she saw a small Vulcan speed by, with a taller Vulcan in command gold attempting to catch them. A stoic-but-amused, greying Vulcan stood to one side, holding an alert infant, while two humans corralled a second Vulcan toddler into Jim’s arms. It wasn’t the _sight_ that brought a smile and tears to Winona’s eyes, it was the _sound_. Giggles, little tiny giggles and amusement spoken from adult voices, all wrapped around her.

The still-running Vulcan toddler started to pass her again, and with a motion that she had perfected when Jim had learned to run, she scooped the little flying bundle of robes up and onto a hip. The Captain, for that was only who this Vulcan in gold could be, sighed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Winona looked down at the silent and stiff little form in her arms. “Well, Jim! If she doesn’t react like you did when I caught you running through the Jeffries tubes! She’s _absolutely_ your little girl!”

Jim snorted, walking over with the little boy in his arms, pulling his mother into a swift, firm hug. “Mom, I’m so glad that you’re here.” He stroked his hand over the little girl’s face, and she relaxed instantly, looking up with wonder at Winona. “Mom, this is Ych’a Satelk T’Raya. And this troublemaker here who started it is Ych’a Lyras Arev. They’re your grandkids.”

Winona didn’t stop the tears from falling, or the grin from spreading across her face. A little hand patted at the tears. “No cry, ’Nona! You should be happy to meet family!”

Smiling, Jim wiped the tears from the other side of his mother’s face. “T’Raya, humans sometimes cry when they feel strong emotions. It could be sadness, anger . . . but here? She’s crying because she’s so happy to meet you.”

Arev frowned, little brows pulling together adorably. “I do not understand human emotions.”

“That’s okay,” Jim replied with a smile. “I can show you some later, before meditation tonight. There’s a lot, and not all Vulcans can always understand the human need to explore and express our emotions outwardly.” He kept his free arm around his mother’s shoulder, pressing his forehead to hers gently before pulling back a little. “You okay, Ma?”

“You gave me grandbabies.”

“Yep.”

“ _Adorable_ , logical little grandbabies.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Dammit, Jim.”

Bones snickered at the fond look that Jim leveled at his mother, “So _that’s_ why you don’t bother trying to argue with me when I say that.” He patted Jim’s shoulder firmly. “Have a meal plan for tonight?”

“Naw. Didn’t get that far before these two hit a patch of high energy and we decided a game of chase would help get rid of some of that energy before dinner.”

“Right. Vulcans, I’m making something with meat in it, some good ol’ Southern comfort food. Use the spare counter to keep your greens uncontaminated.” He took two steps before Sovek fell in line with him.

“I would like to learn how to make foods that you find comfort in, Doctor McCoy.”

"Oh? Why's that? You know you'll be cooking animal products."

"I understand." Sovek paused, ears blushing hotly, dark eyes glancing away. "But I wish to assist you when you are processing your emotions after a difficult day."

Bones stopped inside the kitchen, frowning at the lanky med intern. "I've known enough hobgoblins to know that you're not coming right out and saying something important, kid. What's goin' on?"

Fisting his hands, straightening and meeting Len's gaze squarely, Sovek gave his answer. "I wish to stay with you and be useful to you for many years to come. I owe you more than a debt of gratitude, but also a debt of my life. Your competency and care in giving me a job to do has helped me through the losses of my bonds to my entire family, and—"

McCoy pulled the young Vulcan into a harsh embrace, one hand around the back of the slim neck. At first, Sovek remained stiff, unsure of how to proceed. Skin-on-skin touch was not something he often experienced, due to his Vulcan upbringing and the Federation’s understanding that touching a Vulcan was nigh taboo. But with the warm hand around the back of his neck, the hot brush of paternal love that McCoy hid under his gruff personality, he sank into the hold of human arms around his frame, burying his face into a welcoming shoulder. To add to his complete embarrassment, he felt hot tears start to soak the regulation blue tunic. But McCoy said nothing, just began swaying back and forth in a gentle movement. There was a rustle of fabric, and the voices faded behind a closed door, leaving them alone in the Captain's quarters.

"Kid," McCoy murmured gruffly, "I was gonna surprise you." He kept the still-weeping teen against his side and shoulder while pulled out his padd, flipping through to an almost-completed form. "But you beat me to the confession. Here. Look."

A trembling hand reached up to press over thin lips.

McCoy pressed a firm kiss to the perfect hair, then leaned his nose against it. "I'm not perfect, I'm very, _very_ emotional and I emote it all the time, and I have a lot of demons that I'm still fighting. But if you want it, I'd really love to give you a home with me as your legal guardian."

He felt the smaller head nod against his shoulder, the dark hair tickling his nose and making him smile. "And you'd have a step-sister, too. My girl Joanna lives on Earth with her mother, but you'll get to meet her when we dock."

"Yes." The thin, long-fingered hand reached out, scrolled along the application, and Sovek pressed his thumb against the signature box, recording his consent to the adoption application, noting that while there was no significant other in McCoy’s life, James Kirk had been listed as the next-of-kin in case of emergency. And he turned back into the embrace, wrapping his arms around his new father, tears freshening as he was gently rocked and comforted in a way that he hadn't experienced since he was a toddler.

His mind, his _katra_ , finally felt the first waves of peace since the moment his planet had been taken from him. Sovek burrowed closer to Len, feeling the large, gentle hand smoothing along his hair, then cupping the back of his head as a cheek was pressed against his temple. “I love ya, kid. I know you don’t talk emotions, but I know from how you act that you feel the same way. And if you’re ever ready to say it, I’ll listen. I gotcha, now. Won’t let ya drift, ya hear me?”

“I . . . I . . .” Clearing his throat, Sovek nodded against the shoulder he was pressing into. “I would like us to visit a Vulcan mind-healer. I need the broken bonds in my mind healed . . . and I . . . I want to feel your mind beside where my parents’ had been.”

Beside. Not precisely within those points in his boy’s mind. Len smiled, his cheek crinkling against the cool, slightly-green-tinged skin. “I’d be honored, kid. I like that.”

~*~

Jim peeked into Spock's quarters, then shook his head, silently closing the bathroom door and walking into his crowded rooms. Scotty had arrived with some shortcake biscuits and tea to tide folks over until the two in the next room had settled themselves. Nyota let herself in, grinning and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Did he ask Sovek to live with him?”

“How do you even _know_ that?” Jim asked, taking T’Raya from his mother and letting her curl up over his heartbeat.

The mocha-skinned woman grinned broadly, thumbing at her insignia. “Communications. I know how many people have been requesting and filing adoption papers in the last few weeks.” She stole a biscuit from Scotty’s hand, popping the corner of it into her mouth and munching away. The engineer stared, jaw dropped and a blush spreading over his cheeks. “Besides. He was asking me how to speak a couple Vulcan phrases, and let me tell you, that man has _no_ ear for any language aside from Terran Standard. So, I told him as much, and he agreed that it’d be better for him to speak the language he’s comfortable with, rather than mangling the language of the kid he hoped to adopt.”

Jim chuckled, leaning his shoulder against his mother’s. He felt Arev release his pant leg with a pat, the soft touch in his mind letting him know that he was going to Spock to be picked up. “Fair enough. Well, that means that the Captain and the Vulcan Council will have to do some adoption ceremonies once we’re docked?”

“That is an astute deduction,” Sarek replied. “Shall we start dinner for the little ones here while we wait for Doctor McCoy to make dinner for the adults?”

“Good plan.” Jim smiled and kissed Winona’s cheek. “I’m going to hold to the plan for tonight. Arev, T’Raya, it’s a bath night.”

“No like water.” T’Raya grumbled against his shoulder, Arev echoing his sentiments from Spock’s arms.

Jim’s grin turned into a chuckle. “In Terran Standard, ‘bath night’ means that it’s a night to take a sonic shower. Human children often play in the bathtub, in soapy, sudsy water with toys.”

“That sounds unsanitary, despite the name.” Arev pouted, clearly tired. Jim began moving towards his kitchenette along one wall and preparing the replicator, making sure to hit all the dietary needs of his little ones, regardless of what they chose for dinner.

Amanda added, “Perhaps you could equate it with the architectural puzzles you used when you were in school on Vulcan.”

“Where we would have to wade through the sand to find and create solid structures?”

“Exactly. Earth, or Terra, is mostly of water; humans are predisposed towards using water to cleanse themselves, rather than using sonics or sand-scrubs.” Amanda raised her daughter to her shoulder, rubbing circle along the small back to encourage a burp.

Winona couldn’t help herself. “Jim, you need to actually make Vulcan babies for me to spoil.”

“Oh my God, Mom, now is _so_ not the time,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Let me raise these two sweethearts a little more before I settle down.”

“But you _have_ thought about it, right?”

“With all these cuties, I can’t help _but_ to think about how much I want to have kids, but realistically, I want to enjoy my time with Arev and T’Raya for a while longer before I ground myself for a pregnancy.” He scooped the salad he had been making into two small bowls, since there weren’t any other toddlers to be fed, then looked over to Arev. “You earned the choice of a meal. Would you like to decide what you and T’Raya eat tonight for the main dinner?”

“Whole grain pasta and cheddar cheese, with chopped jalapeños, red onions, and chives? And some steamed broccoli?” Arev wriggled a little in glee; he had tried the special mac’n’cheese once and couldn’t get enough of it. The replicator hid the necessary nutrients in the pasta and cheese, while Jim sautéed and mixed in the fresh-grown vegetables. Arev also took good care of his little cousin, who loved broccoli.

Jim noticed the addition and smiled his approval. “I think we can do that. Spock, mind putting him down?” He set T’Raya on the ground as well, pointing them to the lower cupboard that he had put dishes into. “Please set the table for yourselves.”

“Okay!”

Winona stared at the swift, precise movements of the two little Vulcans, while Jim pulled the meal together swiftly. The portions were small enough for little bellies to hold easily, while still making sure to leave enough set aside if either wanted seconds. It was soothing to be able to provide to the two little sweethearts this way. And healing. Very, very healing.

Winona’s gaze caught his own as he sat with T’Raya on his lap. This had become a ritual, of sorts. Whoever didn’t get to choose the meal sat on Jim’s lap. She raised both eyebrows at him, and he nodded. They’d talk once the little ones were in bed.

~*~

Dinner completed and the officers finished congratulating McCoy and Sovek, it was only Jim, Spock, and their attending parents that remained in the Captain’s quarters. The doors to Jim’s rooms were open so he could keep an ear out for nightmares.

Winona spared no time. “Jim, you’ve never willingly prepared meals since Tarsus.”

Amanda’s eyes shot to the young man in shock, and he realized that Sarek hadn’t spoken to his wife about Jim’s past. He held a finger up to his Mom, turning to face his Captain’s mother squarely. “I was there when I was a teen because I was a rebellious little asshole and the authorities pressured Mom and her ex-husband into getting me out of the environment. Long story best told later. It’s affected me, and I’m still working through some of the stuff, but some things lingered longer than others.”

“Such as food preparation,” Amanda whispered.

“Yes.” He released a deep breath. “Tarsus Four . . . it made me sick for a long time. In all ways. I . . . had to struggle to want to eat, to want to live." Amanda's brown eyes were welling up with emotion, and Jim had to swallow and look away. Her empathy was palpable. "I had a problem with preparing food for a long time. I had an eating disorder that still sometimes comes knocking when I'm stressed out. I struggle daily against hoarding food, even though I have a replicator and fresh greens available at all times. Ma saw me when I first came back from Tarsus, and she took leave from Starfleet to take care of me. She and my dad's parents became a support team, trying to help me, but it took a big step on their side of things to really get through my food issues."

"What did they do?" Spock asked softly, his knee stretching over to rest against Jim's.

Jim smiled to Winona, who beamed back, unrepentant. "They emptied the entire house of food. They pulled the replicator out of the wall. They put it all out onto the back porch. They found my 'secret' hoards and set them all on the table. And when I came back from school, when I saw the empty cabinets and my stash on the table, they sat me down and said, 'We eat _what_ you eat, _when_ you eat.' And then they showed me all the fresh food on the back porch. And the hole where the replicator was." He reached over to wipe the tear from his mother's face. "And that's when I realized that I was hurting my family by hurting and punishing myself for surviving, when so many others hadn't."

Winona smiled through her tears, drawing in a breath and straightening up. "We brought him to the grocery store, spending more for fresh food that he could trace where it came from because it reassured him to know who was growing which crops. But the cost didn't matter, not when my boy needed it. So, for me, to see Jim making food without the little tics that I've seen him display since he was fourteen? It's overwhelming. Those two little Vulcans are just as needed in his life as he's needed in theirs."

Spock’s gaze never wavered from Jim’s face. The admissions of how deeply this young man had been injured . . . even lasting _long_ after the initial traumas . . . to see where Jim Kirk had brought himself after these terrible things had happened to him? It was unbelievable. And it spoke of the strength of character that Kirk not only had developed thus far, but it was almost as if he could see the man that Kirk would become. There was only more strength in store for the Commander.

Jim aimed a soft smile at his Captain, but all attention was swiftly diverted at Amanda’s soft “oh!”

Leaning closer, they saw her fingers unfurl one small, pointed ear. The sleeping infant wriggled a little, her small nose scrunching up before smoothing back out. Sarek leaned closer, his hand brushing over the small cheek on the way to unfurl the other little ear. His eyes softened, and he looked to his wife and son, black eyes lingering between the chocolate gazes of his family. “What shall she be named?”

“T’Alaro,” Spock whispered, his gaze meeting that of his father’s without fear of judgement.

“A shortening of _t’sai ashal-Ah’rak_ , lady of my beloved Vulcan,” Sarek murmured, turning from his son’s human eyes to meet those of his wife’s. “Our _sa-fu_ shows wisdom in the name, Amanda. What are your thoughts?”

Her smile at finally seeing cooperation between her husband and son could have easily been mistaken for joy at finally being able to name the little girl whose delicate _katra_ eased so many old hurts within her human heart. “I have known Spock to show great wisdom in many situations, _adun_. I am grateful that he has continued to show his continued growth. T’Alaro is a fitting name.”

Sarek bowed his head, knowing that old shame at his stubborn pride still colored the familial link between himself and his son. And yet, he could feel the strength of understanding from Spock’s side, bolstering him when it should have been his duty as father to bolster his son. _Ah, but perfect we mortals are not._ Sarek couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I greet thee, T’Alaro, and I welcome thee as daughter to me and mine, and sister to _Spokh_.”

A sniffle broke the moment, and Jim coughed, casting his red, watering eyes away in embarrassment. Winona was unabashed at her tears, smiling brightly. Clearing her throat, she stood, resting a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “I’m bunking down in Engineering, kiddo. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“’Kay, Ma.” Rubbing at his face, he turned and pulled her into a firm embrace, digging his nose against her gut and hiding his face. She smiled, carding her hand through his hair until he shifted, pulling away with a soft curse. “Arev’s going into a bad one. Amanda, Sarek, I’m honored to have witnessed the naming of your child. If I don’t see you before tomorrow, rest well.” Raising a hurried ta’al, he jogged back into his room, already crooning a soft note.

Sarek blinked after the young human male, his shoulders dropping slightly in confusion and shock. Spock was pulled into a quick hug by Winona, who dropped a motherly kiss to his crown. And he couldn’t find it in himself to be put out by the show of affection. Once she left the room, he raised eyes to his father. The stern Vulcan rose, walking around to take the place where Jim had vacated, raising a hand almost hesitantly.

Spock leaned into his father’s touch and—


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this and self-beta'ed it. If you see any mistakes, please let me know. I'm starting to doze out over my keyboard, but I wanted to get this chapter up to you folks!
> 
> We only have the epilogue left to go!!!

Gasping, the Vulcan came to full awareness, hands reaching out for something stable to hold onto, tears streaming down cheeks and eyes bloodshot. His mouth was open in a sobbing gasp.

Large hands wrapped around the sides of his torso, pulling him against a warm heartbeat. A strong arm supported him, while the heat of a hand pressed against his cheek, pressing it against a stubbly human one. Thoughts and emotions rushed to the surface-meld, initiated by the skin contact, breaching the barrier between minds. Words were spoken, but his mind couldn’t process them in his distress.

It was one phrase, repeated.

_I got you. I got you. I got you._

Arev curled closer against Jim’s torso, hearing the language change. “Ka’i, Arev. Ka’i, ka’i. Nam’uh hayal. Ka’i.”

_I’m here, Arev. I’m here, I’m here. Calm down. I’m here._

Slowly, slowly, Arev could control his breathing, pacing it to every other heartbeat from his almost-father. It took time. It took almost a half hour before he could sip at the warm milk and honey that Jim saved for after the really awful nightmares. He hiccupped, diaphragm ignoring his attempts at controlling his bodily reactions. And Jim held him, stroking his hair, stroking his face and kissing his forehead, hands gentle and warm and kind and fatherly.

“Did you want to talk about it?”

Arev shook his head against the black undershirt that Jim wore instead of his command golds. “Need Spock.”

That was a first, but Jim nodded anyway, standing from where he had settled by the table, glancing in on T’Raya on the way to the head. He knocked on the door separating Spock’s quarters from the shared bathroom. Amanda opened it, walking through with a low whisper of robes. “Jim?”

“Arev wants Spock.”

The human nodded, understanding. “Spock and Sarek are meditating for a little while longer. They need it desperately.”

Jim frowned. “What happened?”

“They had a lot of misconceptions to clear up as father and son. It was a long meld, and they were both equally emotionally compromised. I don’t think that everything has been fixed between them, but it’s . . . it’s a long-overdue and welcome change in their relationship.” Amanda’s smile was shaky, but there was a strength in her brown eyes that spoke of the pride she held towards the Vulcans of her family. “It’s the first meld that they’ve shared since Spock was fifteen. That’s an irregularity in their culture.” Just as she was opening her mouth to continue, the door opened behind her, and Sarek beckoned Jim in.

Amanda blinked once at her bondmate and husband, as he left the door open so that they could listen out for T’Raya. But he said nothing over their bond, no hint as to what transpired during his meditation. Spock was still returning to himself from a deep session, eyes slowly opening. It was like watching one of the children wake up after a long nap, slowly returning to full awareness.

Arev wriggled to be let down, and Jim, not wanting to struggle with the strong toddler, whispered, “Greet him slowly, Arev. Slowly.”

The little one did as directed, reaching out to touch Spock’s knee before crawling up into his lap, curling up as small as he could. Spock snaked his arms around the little bean, holding him closer to his chest. A small hand guided his own long one towards his meld-points. Spock tilted his head slightly, looking down at the still-watering black eyes. “What is it you need, Arev?”

“I cannot show Jim what is in my head, what woke me. Can you help me show him? I cannot speak it out.”

“You understand very well that a meld between you and I is not at all the same as what a meld would be between Jim and myself, Arev. The connotations are entirely different, and culturally, it is bordering on inappropriate.”

“I understand. But Captain Spock . . . please.”

Spock sighed, shifting his position to a cross-legged pose, placing the toddler in the cradle of his knees, stroking across psi-points and focusing peace and calm into the young mind. Looking up, he made eye-contact with his First Officer. “Jim, a meld between us may result in a temporary link between our minds. I can shield it from my side to preserve your privacy. Unlike what you have seen in the last two weeks, melding is not something taken lightly on . . . in Vulcan culture.”

“I understand and consent,” Jim replied, noticing the pause. It would be a long time before Spock was ready to speak about losing Vulcan.

“We will leave you to take care of your son, James.” Sarek bent to pick up his and Amanda’s adopted daughter, while his wife pulled a scarf over her head, securing it under the neckline of her outer robe. She rested a hand along Spock’s face, her mind reassuring his before they departed for their own room.

The door closed, leaving Jim to pad over and slide into a kneeling position. “Spock?”

“Our minds share a natural affinity. Any further melds may form a preliminary bond.”

Jim didn’t look down at Arev. He angled his cheek towards Spock’s free hand. “Then you and I should clear a few things up before Arev shows me what he can’t share verbally.”

“Jim—”

“Please, Spock.” His blue eyes were earnest, almost as if he _wanted_ to say something to Spock, but didn’t want to upset Arev with it.

The Acting-Captain raised his left hand, fingers sliding into place as if they had done this thousands of times before. _“Nahp, hif-bi tu throks.”_

Jim opened his mental gaze, greeted with the sight of Spock in traditional Vulcan robes among the waist-high crops in his mind. Instead of looking out-of-place, it felt _right_ to see Spock in Iowan landscapes. Jim sighed, reaching a hand out, fingers stroking over the handwoven robes. _Spock. I know you and I want each other. What I saw in the other Spock’s mind was . . . it was all my dreams come true. He and his Jim were Bondmates for two decades. And with you, out here among the stars, I’m complete. For the first time, Spock, I’m not George Kirk’s rebellious kid, I’m not the Tarsus poster child, I’m not the genius-level repeat offender in Iowa wastelands, I’m not a cadet trying to show Starfleet how much of a fuck-up they’re inviting by teaching us dumb shit that isn’t applicable once we’re out in the black. I’m me. And part of that is because I’m at your side._

Spock could feel his mind looking for handholds in Jim’s own mental landscape. He trembled, feeling how similar they were. Despite his past, despite the quieter Jim that the command crew had seen behind closed doors, despite all that life had thrown against Jim Kirk, they were easily of one soul. Together. And separate.

Mirroring one another.

His resolve began to crumble. _James, I . . . I feel too deeply. I am compromised and I do not want to cause you to fail. I cannot continue as Captain, I am not suited to it._

_Spock, that’s neither here nor there. And I know that you’re diverting the conversation, but I really want to sit and talk with you about your status as Acting Captain later. Listen. I could love you, Spock. I could wrap myself up in your heart and mind and soul and never leave._

_But you do not love me yet, even as I have stood pining from afar._

_You think you were the only one? Look for yourself. I invite you._

And the world as Spock understood it . . . shattered.

Breaking contact with a gasp and moist eyes, Spock panted for breath, his hand reaching around to grip Jim’s shoulder, dragging him in for a messy, heated, human-style kiss that had Arev temporarily distracted with the disgust of any young child seeing a parent kissing. Jim broke, gasping for breath and reaching a hand up to Spock’s face, fingers tracing the strong jaw. “Are we okay?”

“Okay has variable definitions.” But the eyes lifted into a smile. “But in this situation, I believe the correct response would be, ‘we are _more_ than okay.’”

“Does that mean I can call him _sa-mekh_ , Jim?”

“Oh, so _he_ gets the daddy-title before _I_ do?” the blonde teased, reaching over to stroke one small, tear-stained cheek, affection and love transmitting through the touch and showing that he was not at all offended. “But the answer is for him to give you.”

The two Vulcans spoke at the same time.

“I would be honored to be called _sa-mekh_ by you, Arev.”

“But there are so many ways to call you Father in so many Earth languages that T’Raya and I didn’t want to call you the wrong thing!”

Jim grinned and whispered, “I am not mad, or disappointed, or jealous that you want to call Spock as _sa-mekh_. I am proud that you both want him in your lives as permanently as I would like him in mine.” He settled himself again on the floor, drawing in a breath and calming his heart-rate. “But, first. Let’s confront your nightmare together, and then get some sleep before we dock in the morning.”

“Okay, papa.”

And Jim’s heart melted as he leaned in and kissed one small forehead with a smile. “Let’s go chase that nightmare away, kiddo.”

~*~

Morning came too early for Jim, who woke to the sensation of fingertips tracing his features. He lay curled around Arev and T'Raya, Spock curling around their other side. Their arms crossed over the two, protecting them from the rest of the world. Spock's wrist rested on his shoulder, first two fingers paired and tracing his jaw. Jim's voice was soft. "Good morning. I think we're docked."

"The warp core powered down point-four-three hours ago, and the mag-clamps engaged one-point-zero-two hours ago." Spock's voice was just as quiet. "Gamma shift seems to have handled the docking procedure admirably." He didn't stop stroking Jim's face. "I believe this is what you would describe as 'the calm before the storm.'"

Jim nodded slightly. "The media will be swarming to see those of us whose names have been thrown around. Yours and mine, specifically. Pike, when he's in recovery. The now-senior crew and alpha shift bridge staff." He drew in a deep breath. "And all of us who have fostered or chosen to adopt Vulcan children. I don't know how much about my involvement has gotten out, but I'm not looking forward to their questions." He moved to start waking his children up, calloused fingers stroking along soft cheeks, smiling at the rebellious wince, eyes clenching shut. "C'mon, kiddos, time to get up."

Arev grumbled, rolling over and tucking his face into Jim's chest. T'Raya blinked dark eyes, frowning delicately up at Jim. "Arev tells me that you're Papa, now. And that Captain Spock is _sa-mekh_. This is good."

Jim chuckled, reading the fond amusement in Spock's gaze at their (their!) almost-daughter. All that kept them from full adoption was a Vulcan ambassador, a Mind-Healer, and a Starfleet magistrate. But Jim and Spock had already lined those up after Arev had finally fallen asleep. "Only if you're comfortable with that word."

"I'd like to call you Father in public . . . and Papa in private," Arev whispered against Jim's breastbone, the small voice vibrating against his heartbeat.

"It is entirely your choice.” Jim kissed the dark crown, stretching to do the same with T’Raya. “And it doesn’t have to be a decision made right now. We have to get up and pack our things to go down to Earth’s surface.”

“Will Earth be home?” T’Raya asked shakily.

Spock’s wide eyes looked to Jim for help. The poor Vulcan wasn’t emotionally prepared for that sort of query. But Jim had lost enough homes to know the right thing to say. “T’Raya, sweetheart, do you see where you and Arev are? Where Spock and I are?” He waited for her nod, knowing that all three Vulcans were focused with their scary intensity upon him and his words. “ _This_ is home. Right here, us together. Home isn’t a physical place; home is the family around you. And I’ve gotten really, _really_ lucky with my new home.” He smiled gently, making eye contact with all three before hesitantly leaning closer to Spock’s face.

He got the human kiss he was hoping for.

~*~

Spock looked worn as the senior bridge staff gathered one last time before leaving the _Enterprise_ , the Vulcans attached to them huddled close. Jim rested his fingertips against Spock’s left elbow, and the Acting Captain indicated that he take the floor.

Jim straightened, his voice carrying through the small group. “Not all of you have dealt with rabid reporters before. I have. So. Here’s the deal. I know that some of us will have family waiting for us planetside, since the media loves a good reunion. Our duties to our crew and our passengers aren’t done until midnight tonight. That means that some of us will be tagged for interviews and press releases. Because we’re pretty, we’re geniuses, and Starfleet knows that we can handle it. If you _can’t_ handle a scheduled interview, comm me _immediately_ and Mom or I will take it on.”

Gazes inevitably slid to Winona, who was leaning against the bulkhead and grinning. Grinning like she was going to end the next person who look at her son’s crew the wrong way. “I’ve been wrangling the press for twenty-five years. Starfleet likes using me when they want the vultures to back the hell off.”

Jim continued, “And I’ve grown up with some of the most asinine and insulting questions that those primordial sludgedrops have come up with. _And_ watching Ma tear into them. Wait until you see it happen.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. I want to draw attention away from the Vulcan passengers. Admiral Komack wanted the press here, but Barrett was able to get the backdoor route open for our Vulcans. Any questions.”

“My fiancé texted me this morning about Starfleet picking him up to meet us,” Sulu volunteered. “Want us to make a scene with Pasha?”

“Trouble, you up for that kinda publicity of being in an openly-gay poly relationship?” Jim asked pointedly, eyes locking with the seventeen-year-old.

The little Russian grinned, the maturity and sardonic hint along his face showing that he wasn’t all doe-eyed and cute. “Aye, Commander. Eet has been long time in comink. My family has already adopted Hikaru and Ben.”

“They’re already pressuring us to spend the mandatory leave with them,” Sulu added, blushing. “Ben’s and my folks are already out with them.”

“Okay, so that’s one scene. Play it by ear, and keep a sharp eye on everyone else. If someone looks stressed out or pressured by the media, swarm them. Get them down the line towards the doors.” He looked up at Spock, who nodded. Casting his gaze out over the solemn young faces, Jim asked, “Any questions?”

Bones grinned. “Yeah. Did you _really_ throw out my bourbon after the second Kobayashi Maru fiasco?”

“Nope.”

“Good. Because I’m gonna need it after dealing with the press.”

“I just hid it really well. But you’d know exactly where I put it if you can figure out what I had been doing after the second test . . .”

McCoy’s face shifted, contorting with shock. “You _damned_ prick! I should have _known_ you’d’ve stuffed it in your own desk!”

“Well, not _exactly_ the desk.”

“Don’t say another word.”  
The prediction was a true one. The shuttle carrying them landed, with Spock and Kirk squaring themselves. They would be the first off, and the first seen. Jim looked down at Arev and T’Raya. “You sure you want to walk off on your own?” Their solemn nods were the only answer. He could feel their anxiety creeping higher by the breath. “Okay. If, at any moment, you need me, you let me know. We’re going to try to make this short.” Straightening from the slight crouch he had been in to make eye-contact, he nodded to Spock, who turned and nodded to the pilot, signaling that they were ready.

The door opened and Spock walked out onto the nacelle, then down the short flight of stairs that one of the dockworkers had placed for their disembarking. His form was wreathed in a halo of camera flashes. Jim was next, the little Vulcans close on his heels. They paused in fright on the nacelle, T’Raya fisting her hand in Arev’s sleeve. Jim walked his way around the steps, resting his hands on the warm metal and looking up at them. His eyebrows raised, and the little gazes flickered over the masses again before they rushed at him, robes flapping as they jumped into his arms and hid their faces against either side of his neck. The cameras were clicking even faster, if that was possible, as Jim arranged his arms to support the weight of his sweet kiddos. Spock had paused, turning to watch their interaction, before walking back over. His parents now walking down the stairs, followed by Uhura and Scotty.

Leaning in, knowing the image that they were already revealing to the world, Spock touched Arev’s shoulder. _“Sa-fu.”_

The little boy turned in Jim’s arms, almost throwing himself at Spock. Now freed of forty solid pounds of child, Jim focused his attention on T’Raya, soothing her from the trembling before they continued down the gauntlet. Two streaks in command gold shot by their shoulders, aiming towards a stocky Asian man. The three almost knocking themselves over in a wet-eyed, exuberant, _loud_ reunion. Cameras were swinging their way, eager to get the money shot for their individual agencies.

Bones caught up to Jim and Spock, Sovek at his left, hands white-knuckled behind the small of his back. The young Vulcan watched the emotional reunion with a tilted head, looking for all the world like a curious puppy. “Is such emotionalism normal?”

Before anyone could answer him, a shrill, “PAPA!” echoed through the bay, and McCoy spun, sweeping his little girl up into his arms, kissing her face over and over and over again, his tears mixing with her own littler ones, his strong arms holding her tight.

Sovek turned to Spock, whose own brown eyes were soft at seeing the stoic doctor reduced to tears. His voice was soft. “Though we are not controlled by our emotions, Sovek, it is cleansing for our human friends and family to release these emotions publicly. Often, sharing these emotions form deeper social bonds, and further strengthen existing ones.” He looked down at the medically-inclined younger Vulcan, no condemnation or censure to be found in his gaze. “A phenomenon with which I believe you have recently become familiar.”

The young man nodded slowly, watching as McCoy turned and beckoned him closer. Amanda watched the interaction, the T’Alaro watching the world around them with a certain calm and nobility that T’Pau would no doubt enjoy cultivating. She smiled at her husband, who came to stand beside her, raising two of his fingers to stroke along her jawline, a thought rushing through her mind. _You have raised a fine son, adun-a. I am pleased that you have seen what I had been blind to, and nurtured what I could not comprehend._

Amanda smiled, blushing and looking down for a moment. She kissed the small forehead of their new daughter. _Sarek, you’re a prideful, stubborn man, and it serves you well in your position of ambassador. However, it is a character flaw of yours in your personal life. It is a stumbling block that I have seen become ever more of a façade in our son’s continued silence towards you. As Spock grew and matured, even as he attempted to live and honor the Vulcan way, you simply weren’t able to leave those traits at the Embassy. Often enough, you were the Ambassador to our little boy, who didn’t understand why his father didn’t approve of him._ She raised her head, dark chocolate eyes molten and yet steely. _My dearest love, you began the rift that has separated you from Spock last night. But you have not yet bridged it with the man born from our love, devotion, and dedication to one another._

Sarek was silent for a long time. Jim and Spock began to usher their people along, giving the older Vulcan a moment to watch how they worked as a single unit, always keeping steady watch without it seeming too obvious to human eyes. But to any species of a clan-based society, it was clear that they were not only leading, but herding and protecting their people. Spock’s own behavior was distinctly Vulcan, but there was something of Amanda’s compassion and empathy there, as well. Though they had shared a long, soul-revealing meld the night before, Amanda was correct in stating that not everything had been resolved. There was still a tension between Spock’s shoulders that indicated a need for meditation or conversation.

As if sensing his father’s scrutiny, Spock’s head swiveled around, made eye contact for a brief second, and then continued gently ushering the large group towards the door. Once on the other side, shielded from public view, the humans of the senior crew seemed to heave a sigh of relief, deflating from the strong public personas they had adopted. Sarek wove his way through the softly-talking individuals, stopping before his son, and the young man he sincerely (illogically) hoped Spock would bond with.

And he reached up, gripping Spock’s shoulder. They stared at each other for one long minute, feeling their sides of their brittle parent-child bond quivering, trying to open but failing. There still was very little trust between father and son. Jim’s arm wrapped around the small of Spock’s back, and he raised his chin at Sarek, almost as if in challenge. Sarek hesitated, then rested his other hand on Jim’s human (physically weaker) shoulder. And he _felt_.

Jim and Spock were a _unit_ , they were not bonded, but they didn’t _have_ to be in order to be a perfect balance.

He bowed his head, his voice low and husky. Somehow, Jim was lending his human strength to both Vulcans. “Forgive me, Spock. I have not been the father to you that _you_ needed. Instead, _I_ thought that I was the father that you needed. Your mother was right to honor both your human and Vulcan heritages, to encourage both in balance, not in exclusivity. I—”

Sarek was cut off by strong arms pulling him into a human embrace. He breathed in the scent of electrical smoke, Vulcan incense, and the natural sweet musk of a young Vulcan not yet sexually mature. He closed his eyes, arms firmly embracing the boy he had almost ostracized, hearing the lighter voice become husky.

“Father. I forgive you.”


	6. Chapter 6

Captain James T. Kirk drew in a deep breath, trying to figure out where he was and what had woken him up. As his mind continued to rise to consciousness, he realized he had an arm around his husband and bondmate. Their two children were sprawled half over them, little snores not quite so little anymore. The Enterprise’s first five-year mission had been less of a Starfleet ordeal, and more of a Federation mission, making it easier for families to stay together. They were halfway through their final year, on one final sweep through deep space while star-charting. The last five years had driven confidence and self-assuredness into him, giving him the balance he had desperately craved as a young man. 

Jim, Spock, Chris Pike, Ambassador Sarek, Amanda Grayson, and the Vulcan now known as Selek had joined forces and petitioned for the _Enterprise_ to be staffed as Jim and Spock had envisioned it. Young Vulcans apprenticed with the brightest minds, and no fewer than five Vulcan families were on-board permanently, two of which hailed from agricultural sciences, and were cultivating Vulcan plants with the intent of growing them in various climates. 

Bones had taken on another Vulcan apprentice while he continued instructing Sovek in the specialties. He was inordinately proud of how his “little boy” was already a PhD in human and Vulcan medicine, and was working on a third in general xenobiological medicine. His dissertation for the dual-PhD had revolved around the difficulties Amanda and Sarek had faced to bring Spock into their lives, contrasting the growth of technology over the last thirty years. Helping parents of different species conceive hybrid children had become far easier, but the processes were still fraught with risks for both child and incubating parent. 

Scotty kept gathering little orphaned Vulcans into his pack of eager “wee babby” engineers; fully half of them could be found racing through Jeffries tubes and climbing in places that adults couldn’t always access without a thorough knowledge of yoga. None of them were older than twelve. Uhura had taken a few of the young females into her own care, but there was rumor starting up that it was a co-parenting-hinting-at-more situation with a certain Scotsman. 

“Jim?” Spock’s sleep-roughened voice hinted at those frankly sexy tones that his older self possessed. He couldn't wait to hear his own Vulcan's voice mature. “Jim, stop thinking about Selek’s voice. What woke you, _ashal-veh_?” 

“I don’t know.” He began to carefully unravel himself from the blankets and two pre-teens who were getting heavy as hell and hadn’t grasped the idea of “papa and sa-mekh need some time alone.” It was a good thing that he and Spock had requested a large bed in the Captain’s quarters during the construction of the 1701-A. When they could get someone to distract their sweethearts for enough time, they made the most of using every inch of that surface. 

The amber alert klaxon blared, waking the two children, who shoved boots on the moment that their feet hit the deck out of habit. Jim stopped trying to struggle into his uniform long enough to press the comm button, silencing the alarm in their quarters. “This is the captain! What’s the situation?” 

Uhura’s voice was thick with sleep, though still coherent. For her to be on the bridge already meant that she had been in her own quarters and not Scotty's. Which meant that the datenight had gone well, since if they were after "family time," she was usually down closer to Engineering. And Jim would bet a bottle of Saurian brandy that if he asked the computer, Scotty would still be in Uhura's quarters. “Unidentified craft appeared on our sensors.” 

“That’s not cause for an amber, Lieutenant Commander.” 

“Acknowledged, sir. Take a look at its hull.” 

The screen blinked on and Spock peered over his shoulder. Cursing, Jim threw his shirt over his head and buttoned his slacks. “Keep visual on them, Uhura! Do _not_ accept any hails until I’m on the bridge!” Clicking it off, he grabbed boots and socks, pressing kisses to Arev and T’Raya’s foreheads. “Love you two. Stick with Uncle Geoffrey in the Medbay until one of us gives the all-clear.” He opened the door and was running towards the turbolift, Spock right on his bare heels. 

The moment he had a chance, he shoved socks and boots on, feeling deft Vulcan hands helping straighten his hair from its usual just-woke-up rat’s-nest and closer to the messy-but-suave look that he often wore. The lift stopped only briefly to pick up Bones and one of their Vulcan ambassadors, who would be off-screen unless necessary. Protocol for Starfleet's flagship now required that a civil service representative of the Federation be present for all unknown hails. Having a trained Vulcan diplomat on hand was often a blessing. 

The bridge was bright as Jim walked to the center chair. “What are we dealing with, Sulu?” 

“Shuttle seems to be created with better technology than what we have. Engines are advanced, warp nacelles present _in_ the shuttle itself, indicating that the radiation shielding is advanced. Shields are like nothing we’ve scanned before. Warp core seems to be offline, dilithium exhaust in a trail indicating that he’s outta juice. Energy and radiation signatures are similar to that of the _Jellyfish_ 's, sir.” 

“Chekov, where’d they come from?” 

“Unknown, Keptin. They veren’t there, and zhen zhey _vere_. All scans indicating vormhole trawel, but origin termination point cannot be calculated at zhis time.” 

“Uhura—” 

“Ship-to-ship hail is detected, Captain.” 

Jim stepped forward, McCoy coming to stand at his left shoulder, Spock at his right. His face was grim, stern. “Open the line.” 

The human on the other side, weathered face firm, looked shocked. Jim took the initiative. “My name is James T. Kirk, Captain of the _Enterprise_ NCC-1701-A. Identify yourself and your vessel.” 

The man’s mouth moved, but no sound came across. Spock turned to look at Uhura, who shook her head with a frown, one hand cupping around her earpiece. Jim locked eyes with the man, whose hazel eyes were warm, but sad, looking over the crew almost like a father would view his children. The paternal fondness in the gaze was familiar, since he'd seen it on his own face in holos that the crew had gathered over the years. He raised an eyebrow slightly, which Jim replied to with a half-grin. “Well, damn me. Cancel amber alert. Chekov, prepare to beam him over to Transporter One. Tell Engineering to scan and tow his vessel into the shuttle bay. Ambassador Sarek, could you please bring your colleague to join us when he’s free? I apologize for disturbing your meditation.” He took one look at the man on the screen, whose gaze sparkled. Jim winked and indicated that the line be cut. 

Once in Transporter One, Jim thumbed at the ensign to get lost with an affectionate grin. At the easy command, Spock reflected on his gratitude that he had not retained his Captainship. Jim was ever so much better at it, and his manner was natural and flowing. The first year had been rough, while Jim had gained confidence and learned to balance command and friendship with the crew. But from the second year onwards, the man had seemed to naturally "find his groove" as McCoy had put it. Manning the console, Spock raised an eyebrow at his Captain, his lover, his _t’hy’la_. “Ready for transport.” 

“Energize, Mr. Spock.” 

And then it was done, and Jim took two steps forward. “I’d appreciate you not fucking around with Uhura. She’s dangerous when pissed off, and I’ve had the pleasure of pissing her off.” 

“Oh, it wasn’t _that_ bad.” 

“Not that bad? She’s pissed and was muttering that there might have been a console malfunction. I’ll sic her on you. Don't tempt me. I know what it's like to wake up in Medical afterwards.” 

“Nyota Uhura? Vicious? I don't believe you. Still. I didn’t want to send your crew into a tizzy.” 

“I assure you, we are not as inexperienced as you may assume according to our ages.” Spock stepped around the console while Bones finished a scan and huffed. “But I am aware of an elder’s need to always assume that their youngers are often in need of counsel. There would hardly be a 'tizzy' if your identity was revealed, Mr. Kirk.” 

“God, you’re snippy as a youngster. Bones, are you done scanning me yet? I'm fine.” 

“Are you making a medical statement, James Kirk?" At the vaguely-panicked look in the hazel eyes, McCoy let his eyebrow lift. "I didn't think so." He turned to the younger, blue-eyed captain with a short huff. "Well, Jim, you’re not dead from natural causes by the time you’re fifty. Good news! I get to change your diet _now_.” Bones grinned at the glare he received, holstering his tricorder and crossing his arms across his chest. 

“Ass.” Jim turned back to the man before him, taking in the hazel eyes, the slightly-curly hair, the lines along his face, the experience, the tempering, the softening . . . and he smiled. “Welcome aboard the Enterprise, James Kirk. We have someone you’ll be very glad to see again.” 

“He _is_ here?” 

“And believes that you’ve died in your timeline. Try not to give him a heart attack.” 

The door opened, two young voices arguing vociferously with a gravelly old tone. T’Raya made a rude noise. “It is beyond the realm of all possibilities, Uncle. You, yourself stated that to—” She stopped at the sight of the strange man before letting herself smile brilliantly, startling him and stepping to one side as the old Vulcan stepped into the room, Arev grumbling under his breath about emotionalism and its necessity in certain species. 

The old men stared at each other for a long minute before the human took a step forward with a sigh. “Found you. You can’t believe that I’d let a universe and a temporal anomaly stop me, would you?” 

“ _Jim_ ,” Selek whispered hoarsely. 

They reached out at the same time, folding themselves into an embrace that was many decades in waiting. 

Arev and T’Raya moved to stand on either side of their fathers, the door opening one last time for three people, closing and locking afterwards. This was a time for family. Amanda’s hands were pressed against her lips, eyes shining. Sarek stood proud, seeing the echo of the strength of a bond he had witnessed forming on the sands of New Vulcan between his own blood-fever-delirious younger son and the human man who guarded the Vulcan heart jealously. Their toddler daughter stood between them, dark eyes somber but glinting with happiness that Uncle Selek's mate had been found. Sovek stood beside McCoy, hands behind his back and a happy glint around the dark eyes. 

When the old _t’hy’la_ separated enough to look into each other’s eyes, Jim cleared his throat. Kirk turned to look, unashamed of his weeping. The younger captain’s smile was bright. “Welcome home. We’ve been looking for you.” 

“But . . . why?” 

Jim looked to his Spock, who looked over their heads to his mother and father, then back to their elder counterparts. “In our travels, in our exploration, where we have found a Spock, we have found a Kirk. To have one without the other is to encounter only half of a single soul, half of a person.” 

“So then . . . it was _logical_ to look for me.” 

“Of course. It was also logical to keep the official search a secret from my elder counterpart,” Spock folded his hands behind his back, amusement clear upon his features. 

Kirk Prime turned towards Bones and the young Vulcan leaning against his shoulder confidently, and the younger versions of his bondmate’s parents. He pressed his fist against his lips at seeing Amanda, whose funeral he had attended only two years before he had been taken to the Nexus. She had been a second mother to him after Winona’s death more than a decade before. It would be a balm on his lonely soul. 

The woman, maybe a little younger than himself now, swept the two into an embrace, kissing the weathered foreheads with a sigh. “Let’s get you boys settled in so Jim and Spock can put my grandchildren back to bed.” 

“Wait, wait a moment.” Kirk Prime looked to his younger, blue-eyed self. “You have children?” 

Jim grinned broadly. “When they were orphaned . . . _they_ chose _us_. There are a lot of differences between our universes, old man. I’m sure that Selek can fill you in. This is Arev and T’Raya.” 

"Oh, I'm so spoiling them," Kirk Prime murmured, still wiping away stray tears. 

"Get in line, _k'diwa_ ," Selek replied with an open smile.

~*~

Four hours later, the door to their quarters slid open and the stocky form of his older self barreled in with an amused Selek walking serenely at his heels. He looked away from the chess match that he and Spock were currently using as a distraction from trying to word a report with the Admiralty regarding the elder James T. Kirk.

“What the _hell_ is Spock telling me that _you got your goddamned ass killed_ when _Khan_ started _fucking around in my ship_?!” 

Jim looked up from the board with a lazy grin, amusement drifting over his mind from Spock’s end of their bond. He was going to really enjoy having the old man around, and he was really going to enjoy seeing Selek smile more. “Oh, he hasn’t told you about Altamid and my court-marshal at losing the first _Enterprise_ , has he?” 

“Sweet Jesus H. Christ, son, you are _infuriating_. Fine. Tell me what happened." He accepted a cup of coffee that Selek had retrieved for him. "I’ve never heard of Altamid, and I’d like to hear a tale that we haven’t experienced our equivalent of.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this fic! I know that there are a lot of folks who might be confused why Ambassador Spock was still alive in this chapter, but the short of it is, this isn't canon. There's been a lot of studies showing that toddlers are helping keep our elders engaged, happier, and less likely to simply fade away. That being the case, having Ambassador Spock remain on the Enterprise, with young Vulcans and younger versions of the crew seemed likely to happen. As it is, this being an AU, I also didn't want anyone else to die. There's been too much death in 2016, and my heart is sore enough.
> 
> On a brighter note, I'm going to return to writing _if i should return_ over the holiday weekend, once I figure out where it is that I really want to go for that fic. Additionally, I'm planning on recording _Sign Your Name_ sometime in the next few weeks and uploading it as a podfic. There's been a lot of love for that fic, and I'd love to get it out there for more people to enjoy.
> 
> Thank you, again and again! Happy Holidays!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Cyn2k](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyn2K), there is fanart of this chapter, which I am _very_ happy to add onto the end of this chapter! This magnificent piece was penned by [Neetols](http://neetols.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


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